,   *\  Ifjfc*1**  C^   /?*     ^~s 

from  Ya/e  to 


Farmer 


Brinton    Eliot 


Brinton  Eliot 


FROM    YALE    TO    YORKTOWN 


BY 


JAMES    EUGENE    FARMER,  M.A. 

AUTHOR   OF 

THE  GRENADIER,"     "THE    GRAND    MADEMOISELLE 
"ESSAYS    ON    FRENCH    HISTORY,"     ETC. 


KTefo  gorfc 
THE   MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

LONDON:  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LTD. 
1902 

All  rights  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,  1901, 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 

Set  up  and  electrotyped  April,  190*. 


Norfajooti  -press 

J.  S.  Cushing  &  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith 
Norwood  Mass.  U.S.A. 


V 


1  Bum  nuns  grata  manrt,  nomcn  laufcr sqttc  |f  alrngrg 
Cantafaunt  soboks  unanimiquc  patrrg." 


M131554 


Contents 

PART   I.  — YALE 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.      In  which  Three   Sophomores  are  publicly 

Admonished      .          .          .          .          .  3 

II.      At  Commons  and  Elsewhere   ...  24 

III.  In  which  Freshmen  receive  Advice   .          .  38 

IV.  At  the  Sign  of  the  "Cock  and  Crown"    .  46 
V.      Certain  Persons  become  better  Acquainted  .  58 

VI.  Linonia       .          .          .          .          .  .76 

VII.  An  Evening  with  Trumbull     .          .  .83 

VIII.  In  and  Out  of  Yale       ...  .        93 

IX.  Vale  !  Alma  Mater        .          k          ..  .    .      119 

PART   II.— FROM    YALE   TO   YORKTOWN 

I.  Brinton  Eliot  hears  News        .•         .          .129 

II.  At  Philadelphia  .          .          .          .139 

III.  In  which  Mr.  Keayne  Allen  speaks  his  Mind      1 50 

IV.  With  Franklin  at  Passy  .          .          .          .      157 
V.  In  which  Brinton  meets  Beaumarchais         .      165 

VI.      At  the  Palais  Royal        .          .          .          .171 

VII.     The  King  at  Versailles  .          .          •  ;       •      179 
vii 


Contents 


CHAPTER 

PAGE 

VIII. 

In  which  the  British  Ambassador  loses  his 

Temper  ...... 

196 

IX. 

In   which   the   Comte    de   Provost-Launay 

ruins  his  Coat  to  keep  his  Title 

2O2 

X. 

In  which  Mrs.  Keayne  Allen  has  Ideas 

212 

XI. 

The  Road  to  Germantown      .          . 

2  2O 

XII. 

In  which  Mr.  Franklin  flies  a  Kite    . 

230 

XIII. 

At  No.  30  Cour  du  Commerce 

236 

XIV. 

In  which  Certain  Things  are  Said  and  Done 

244 

XV. 

A  Soldier  sails  over  the  Sea 

255 

XVI. 

In  which  Mr.  Edward  Shippen  fights  the 

Earl  of  Harborough    .... 

268 

XVII. 

In  which  the  Flamand  fights  the  Duchess  of 

Cumberland      ..... 

274 

XVIII. 

The  Heyday  of  Sir  William  Howe  . 

280 

XIX. 

From  the  Sea  to  the  Forge 

288 

XX. 

At  the  Forge         ..... 

294 

XXI. 

Mr.  Shippen  signs  himself,  but  ceases  to  be, 

a  Dutiful  Son     ..... 

3°5 

XXII. 

In  which  Mr.  Keayne  Allen  pays  his  Debt 

3H 

XXIII. 

In  which  Piert  Jans  goes  a-  Fishing    . 

325 

XXIV. 

In  which  Old  Friends  meet  Again     , 

328 

XXV. 

In  which   Mrs.   Keayne  Allen  has   Other 

Ideas        

339 

XXVI. 

In  which  Stony  Point  is  Stormed       , 

343 

XXVII. 

In  which  Mrs.  Keayne  Allen  ceases  to  Regret 

353 

Vlll 


Contents 

PART   III.  —  YORKTOWN 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  In  which  an  Army  marches  By         .          .361 

II.  A  Voice  in  the  Night     .          .          .          -37° 

III.  A  Soldier  comes  at  Christmas-time    .  376 

IV.  In  which  Certain  Persons  decide  a  Certain 

Matter 383 

V.      In  which  Toasts  are  Drunk     .          .          »      389 


IX 


PART   I.  — YALE 


BRINTON    ELIOT 


CHAPTER   I 

IN    WHICH    THREE    SOPHOMORES    ARE    PUBLICLY 
ADMONISHED 

A  SMALL  and  highly-organized  community 
takes  an  absorbing  interest  in  its  own  doings, 
and  the  acts  of  its  members  are  of  moment. 
These  acts,  though  viewed  with  indifference 
by  the  world  at  large,  are  of  immense  impor 
tance  to  the  small  and  highly-organized  body, 
and  in  such  communities  it  is  perfectly 
possible  to  have  a  succession  of  nine  days' 
wonders  arising  from  causes  which  are  spec 
tacular  only  in  the  fact  that  they  depart  from 
the  established  routine  and  customs  of  the 
day  —  customs  which,  in  a  world  of  change, 
struggle  for  a  time  to  keep  a  footing,  succeed 
possibly  for  a  century,  but  in  the  end  go 
inevitably  to  the  wall,  giving  place  to  better 
or  to  worse  in  proportion  as  they  themselves 
have  lifted  or  lowered  men. 

Such  a  community  is  a  college  —  buoyant, 
self-centred,  self-sufficient,  redoubtable  with 

3 


'*"•  Brinton  Eliot 


healthy  vigor,  abounding  in  that  full-blooded, 
free-handed  optimism,  without  which,  to 
lighten  and  leaven  the  world's  pessimism 
and  dyspepsia,  men  would  find  life  nothing 
but  sour  cream.  Such  a  community  was 
Yale  College,  for  Yale  College  had  become 
a  fact,  three  stories  high,  visible  to  men ; 
and,  despite  the  hostility  of  Hartford,  the 
fuming  of  Middletown,  the  racket  of  Weth- 
ersfield,  and  the  scorn  of  Saybrook,  it  had 
dug  its  roots  deep  in  the  soil  of  New  Haven. 
The  dream  of  John  Davenport  and  of  the 
ten  worthies  who  placed  their  forty  folio 
volumes  on  the  table  in  the  Russell  House 
at  Branford  had  come  true,  thanks  to  the 
faith  of  the  founders,  the  stiff  spines  of  the 
stout-hearted  trustees,  and  the  munificence 
of  Elihu  Yale,  sometime  governor  of  the 
East  India  Company,  rich,  generous,  big- 
wigged,  portly,  and  among  men  "  thrice  and 
four  times  happy  "  in  that,  as  a  return  for  his 
three  bales  of  India  merchandise,  his  box  of 
books,  a  portrait  of  King  George  I,  and  the 
royal  coat  of  arms,  his  name  has  been,  and 
will  be,  thundered  through  the  centuries  from 
age  to  age. 

Thus,  then,  it  stood  —  a  child  of  miracle  — 
near  the  corner  of  Chapel  and  College  Streets, 
one  hundred  and  seventy  feet  long,  twenty- 
two  feet  wide,  and  thirty  feet  high,  with  a 
steep  roof  and  dormer  windows,  built  of 

4 


Three  Sophomores  publicly  Admonished 

wood  and  painted  blue,  full-born  and  mili 
tant.  Let  no  man  looking  upon  it  say  that 
prayers  and  poundings  were  not  required  to 
get  it  set  up,  for  a  balky  legislature  had  to 
be  coddled  and  a  Wethersfield-  Middle  town 
opposition  defied.  As  for  Saybrook,  did  it 
not  take  Governor  Saltonstall,  the  council, 
the  sheriff,  and  the  sheriff's  men  to  get  the 
college  library  into  ox-carts  and  out  of  Say- 
brook,  Saybrook  meanwhile  buzzing  like  a 
hell  of  hornets ;  and  were  not  bridges  broken 
on  that  night,  and  heads  likewise,  and  a 
quarter  of  the  books  lost  down  stream?  In 
such  fashion  the  child,  born  in  poverty  and 
reared  in  tribulation,  was  housed  at  last,  and 
at  the  joyous  Commencement  of  1718,  duly 
christened  in  sonorous  Latin,  with  solemn 
processions  to  and  from  the  meeting-house 
on  the  Green,  with  "  splendid  dinners "  in 
the  college  hall  and  library,  where  "every 
thing  was  managed  with  so  much  order  and 
splendor  that  the  fame  of  it  extremely  dis 
heartened  the  opposers  and  made  opposition 
fall  before  it."  On  that  i2th  of  September, 
1718,  Yale  victorious  stood,  for  the  first  time, 
upright  among  men,  and  faced  the  world  four 
square.  For  in  truth  on  that  triumphant 
1 2th  of  September,  with  an  undergraduate 
body  of  forty-one,  and  an  alumni  roll  of  one 
hundred  and  thirty,  it  was  already  a  far  cry 
to  that  March  morning  1 702,  when  the  young 

5 


Brinton  Eliot 

Jacob  Heminway  of  New  Haven,  with  a 
cocked  hat  on  his  head  and  a  copy  of  De 
Bello  Gallico  under  his  arm,  trudging  through 
the  mud  to  Killingworth  to  recite  to  Rector 
Pierson,  was  himself  Yale  College,  alumni  and 
undergraduates,  a  thing  wonderful  to  behold. 
However,  the  time  in  question  is  neither 
the  pregnant  loth  of  March  nor  the  trium 
phant  1 2th  of  September,  but  October  in  the 
year  1770.  The  blue  child  of  miracle,  thirty 
feet  high,  with  its  three  doors,  its  sixteen 
windows  on  the  ground  floor  and  nineteen 
on  each  of  the  upper  floors,  its  steep  roof 
and  clock-decked  cupola,  still  rested  proudly 
on  its  foundations  near  the  corner  of  Chapel 
and  College  Streets,  but  beyond  it  there  rose 
now  a  "  neat  and  decent  building,"  Connecti 
cut  Hall,  heir  to  a  splendid  destiny  in  that  it 
has  stood  —  a  gray-haired  sentinel  —  guard 
ing  a  glorious  past  even  to  this  day  —  and  by 
God's  grace,  shall  guard !  Southward  was  a 
chapel  built  of  brick  and  with  a  spire.  The 
elms  had  begun  to  fling  their  shadows  athwart 
the  gambrels  and  dormers  beneath  which  in 
the  low-ceiled,  tobacco-scented  chambers  and 
studies  lived  and  labored  six  able  tutors  and 
one  hundred  and  eight  active  undergraduates. 
While  over  them  all  —  heaveA-seeking,  ortho 
dox  as  the  chapel-spire  —  ruled  Naphtali  Dag- 
gett,  presses  pro  tempore,  lord  of  the  college 
world. 

6 


Three  Sophomores  publicly  Admonished 

At  six  o'clock  on  a  Monday  morning  in 
October,  Mr.  Samuel  Fitch,  butler,  coming 
out  of  the  south  entry  of  Connecticut  Hall, 
pressed  his  cocked  hat  tightly  over  his  bag- 
wig,  threw  up  the  collar  of  his  great-coat,  — 
for  it  was  raining,  and  the  air  was  chill, — and 
ran  rapidly  to  the  door  of  the  chapel,  which 
was  but  a  few  feet  distant.  It  was  time  for  the 
rising-bell,  and  Mr.  Fitch  was  somewhat  late, 
since  through  one  window  in  Connecticut 
and  two  in  the  blue  College  Hall  tallow 
candles  gleamed  fitfully  from  chambers  where 
enterprising  students  were  already  making 
their  toilets.  A  few  moments  later,  the  clap 
per  of  the  college  bell  was  clanging  loudly, 
while  the  stout,  clean-shaven  Samuel,  slightly 
out  of  breath  from  his  run  upstairs,  yanked 
the  rope  with  vigor,  giving  notice  to  all 
within  ear-shot  that  morning  prayers  would 
be  held  in  half  an  hour,  or  to  be  more  exact, 
in  twenty-seven  minutes.  In  the  majority  of 
chambers  this  announcement,  as  far  as  one 
could  see,  awakened  neither  enthusiasm  nor 
students ;  silence  and  snoring  continued,  but 
in  such  cases  the  final  five  minutes  is  ever 
the  age  of  miracles. 

This  duty  done,  Mr.  Fitch  appeared  again 
in  the  deserted  yard,  and  buttoning  up  his 
great-coat,  strode  by  College  Hall  and  across 
Chapel  Street,  went  up  the  steps  of  a  modest, 
frame  mansion  near  the  corner,  and  rattled 

7 


Brinton  Eliot 

the  brass  knocker  on  President  Daggett's 
door.  The  door  was  opened;  Mr.  Fitch 
entered,  and  some  minutes  later  emerged 
and  returned  to  the  chapel,  having  left  in  the 
president's  hands  the  list  of  fines  charged 
against  various  students  for  the  preceding 
week,  since  in  addition  to  the  duties  of  the 
buttery  it  was  part  of  Mr.  Fitch's  business 
to  register  fines  in  his  stiff,  paper-covered 
account-books. 

In  the  yard,  meanwhile,  the  undergraduates 
were  in  evidence.  Seniors  and  Juniors,  mak 
ing  short  shift,  passed  at  once  into  the  chapel, 
and  Sophomores  did  likewise  ;  but  Freshmen 
lingered  near  the  door,  for  though  the  rain 
was  now  nothing  more  than  a  drizzle,  yet  for 
all  intents  and  purposes  the  day  might  be 
classed  as  "  stormy  weather,"  in  which,  and 
at  no  other  time,  Freshmen  were  allowed  to 
wear  their  hats  in  the  college  yard.  Was 
this  precious  privilege  to  be  cut  short  by 
going  indoors  before  the  bell  ?  Certainly 
not ;  and  for  those  who  were  wont  to  appear 
bareheaded  before  their  betters,  it  was  doubt 
less  most  pleasant  to  stand  out  in  the  wet, 
with  their  cocked  hats  planted  firmly  on 
their  heads,  while  a  kind  heaven  poured  upon 
them,  for  the  nonce,  equality.  Thus,  while 
some  half-score  members  of  the  Class  of  '74 
were  loitering  about  the  door  of  the  brick 
chapel,  removing  their  hats  respectfully  when 

8 


Three  Sophomores  publicly  Admonished 

Tutor  Timothy  Dwight  and  Tutor  John 
Trumbull  passed,  and  rejoicing  generally  in 
their  headgear,  there  came  from  Connecticut 
Hall  two  Seniors,  supernatural  beings  who, 
in  the  eyes  of  under-class  men,  have  no 
equals  in  God's  great  universe.  However, 
David  Humphreys  and  Mark  Leavenworth, 
'71,  wore  their  honors  lightly  and  took  the 
attention  they  attracted  as  a  matter  of  course. 
Humphreys  appeared  to  have  forgotten  some 
thing,  for  his  hands  —  those  plump,  white 
hands  which  the  women  of  New  York  and 
Philadelphia  admired  later  when  he  was 
Washington's  aide-de-camp,  and  the  women 
of  Paris  when  he  was  Jefferson's  Secretary  of 
Legation  —  were  rummaging  the  pockets  of 
his  blue  waistcoat.  "  Woodbridge,"  said  he, 
addressing  an  admiring  Freshman  in  the 
polite  but  careless  tone  of  a  man  who  expects 
to  be  obeyed,  "  Woodbridge,  run  up  to  my 
room  and  fetch  my  snuff-box.  You'll  find 
it  on  the  dresser."  The  obsequious  Wood- 
bridge,  touching  his  hat  in  proper  fash 
ion,  set  out  with  alacrity  for  the  second 
floor  front  in  Connecticut  Hall,  while  the 
Seniors  entered  the  chapel.  At  the  same 
time,  President  Daggett,  wearing  a  heavy, 
dark  cloak  over  his  black,  long-sleeved  robe, 
with  his  white  wig  carefully  curled  and  pow 
dered,  and  a  Greek  Testament  in  his  left 
hand,  was  seen  advancing  through  the  yard, 

9 


Brinton  Eliot 

while  the  students,  who  were  now  coming 
rapidly  from  College  Hall,  took  off  their  hats, 
according  to  custom,  when  within  ten  rods  of 
his  person.  The  president,  looking  little  to 
left  or  to  right,  acknowledged  these  saluta 
tions  gravely  by  raising  his  hand  to  his  hat, 
and  when  he  had  passed,  the  crowd  at  the 
door  followed  him  into  the  chapel.  The  bell 
sounded,  and  with  a  noise  like  thunder  down 
the  staircases  in  Connecticut  and  College, 
three  steps  at  a  time,  came  the  belated  ones, 
Seniors  and  Sophomores,  Juniors  and  Fresh 
men,  with  sleep  in  their  eyes  and  soap  in 
their  ears,  buttoning  their  waistcoats,  tying 
their  hair-ribbons,  putting  on  their  coats,  and 
like  dry  leaves  in  a  gale  crossing  the  yard 
helter-skelter,  swept,  at  the  final  clang  of  the 
bell,  headlong  into  the  chapel. 

Behold,  then,  at  half -past  six  in  the  morn 
ing,  under  the  dim  gleam  of  the  candles  near 
the  pulpit  and  the  dull  light  of  the  cold, 
cloudy  sky  without,  Yale  scholastic,  seated 
in  the  white,  wooden  pews.  Erect  in  his 
long,  black  robe,  President  Daggett  was  read 
ing  the  Collect ;  his  voice  was  clear  and  ener 
getic,  and  the  broad,  square  ends  of  his  white 
cravat,  which  hung  some  inches  below  his 
chin,  were  stiffly  starched  and  orthodox.  He, 
too,  was  orthodox,  and,  like  Jupiter,  was  about 
to  hurl  his  thunderbolts  upon  the  heads  of 
certain  undergraduates,  for  if  the  prases  was 

10 


Three  Sophomores  publicly  Admonished 

not  Olympian  Jove,  who,  then,  at  that  time, 
was  Olympian  ?  In  the  two  front  pews  sat  the 
tutors ;  Mr.  John  Trumbull,  Mr.  Timothy 
D wight,  and  Mr.  Joseph  Buckminster  at 
the  right  of  the  centre  aisle ;  Mr.  Stephen 
Mitchell,  Mr.  John  Davenport,  and  the  Rev. 
Samuel  Wales  at  the  left.  Behind  them  were 
the  Seniors  and  Juniors,  and  in  the  pews  on 
the  side  aisles,  under  the  galleries,  the  Sopho 
mores  and  Freshmen.  There  among  the  '71 
men  sat  a  big,  broad-shouldered  fellow,  John 
Brown  by  name,  who  was  one  day  to  play 
his  part  in  the  capture  of  Ticonderoga,  and 
later,  as  Major  Brown,  dash  with  Montgomery 
and  Arnold,  at  two  o'clock  on  a  December 
morning  and  under  a  hail  of  ice  and  iron, 
against  the  batteries  at  Quebec.  Near  him 
was  David  Humphreys,  his  light  curly  hair 
tied  with  a  brown  ribbon,  —  something  of  a 
fop  in  his  way,  and  something  of  a  poet  too, — 
but  when  the  flint-locks  rattled  and  the  drums 
rolled,  he  was  to  go  in  as  a  volunteer,  rise  to 
be  brigade-major  to  Parsons,  serve  on  Put 
nam's  staff,  become  aide-de-camp  to  Wash 
ington,  fill  the  post  of  attache  in  Paris,  and 
stand  one  day  in  the  palace  at  Madrid,  pre 
senting  his  credentials  as  American  minister 
and  thereby  announcing  to  King  Charles  IV 
the  birth  of  a  republic,  which  to  that  beef- 
witted,  boar-hunting  monarch  must  have 
seemed  of  all  phenomena  a  thing  the  most 

ii 


Brinton  Eliot 

phenomenal.  Mark  Leavenworth,  the  future 
deputy  adjutant-general,  a  slender  youth 
with  very  black  hair,  sat  beside  Humphreys; 
and  then  came  Shadrach  Winslow,  stout, 
rosy-cheeked,  in  at  the  final  clang  of  the  bell, 
hair  awry  and  half  asleep,  a  fellow  apparently 
so  fond  of  ease  and  appetite  that  it  would 
have  taken  a  clever  physiognomist  to  see 
in  him  |  Dr.  Winslow,  the  skilful  physician  of 
later  years,  the  ardent  patriot  who  paid  a 
good  round  sum  toward  the  fitting  out  of  a 
ship  of  war,  who  sailed  on  her  as  surgeon, 
and  lost  his  health  and  high  color  in  a  British 
prison-ship  at  Wallabout  Bay.  Among  the 
Juniors  was  the  short,  wiry  Abraham  Bald 
win,  who  served  with  Parsons  on  the  Hudson, 
and  in  the  pew  behind  him,  Samuel  Barker, 
keen-eyed  and  sharp-featured,  brigade-major 
at  White  Plains  and  a  terror  in  Lafayette's 
Light  Corps.  Not  three  feet  away  was  jolly 
little  Jonathan  Bellamy,  who  at  the  first 
drum-beat  shut  up  his  law  books  and  jumped 
into  Bradley's  Connecticut  State  Regiment, 
only  to  die  of  small-pox  ten  days  after  Tren 
ton  in  the  first  flush  of  a  fine  career.  There, 
too,  was  William  Hull,  —  "handsome  Hull" 
they  called  him,  —  muscular,  clean-mouthed, 
clever,  witty,  but  not  studious,  for  it  must  be 
confessed  that  he  knew  more  about  the  ingre 
dients  of  flip,  metheglin,  and  mobby  punch 
than  about  Watts's  "  Trigonometry,"  or 

12 


Three  Sophomores  publicly  Admonished 

Locke's  "  Human  Understanding,"  while  in 
his  translations  of  the  Greek  Testament  the 
king's  English  was  certainly  hung,  drawn, 
and  quartered;  however,  on  a  July  night  in 
'79  he  will  be  seen,  at  the  head  of  seven 
companies  of  Massachusetts  Light  Infantry, 
charging  up  the  hill  at  Stony  Point,  sword 
in  hand  and  whirlwind-like,  at  the  heels  of 
Anthony  Wayne.  Among  the  Sophomores 
sat  Roger  Alden,  short,  thick-set,  light-haired, 
descended  from  John  Alden  of  the  Mayflower; 
he  will  fight  at  Germantown  and  Monmouth, 
and,  in  those  barefooted  dress  parades  at 
Valley  Forge,  appear,  frost-bitten  but  cheer 
ful,  in  leather  belt  and  horse-blanket,  a  major's 
regimentals.  Behind  him  was  Royal  Flint, 
future  assistant  commissary  of  Connecticut 
State  troops,  whom  Greene  called  the  "brave 
and  hearty."  Not  less  so  was  his  room-mate, 
James  Hillhouse,  sometime  lieutenant  of 
Governor's  Foot  Guards,  who  will  battle 
vainly  under  a  July  sun  to  keep  the  British 
out  of  New  Haven,  will  sweat  to  save  the 
soil  of  Yale  from  an  invader's  heel.  There 
were,  moreover,  in  that  Class  of  '73,  certain 
Sophomores  who,  deserving  here  the  most 
extended  mention,  will  receive  the  briefest: 
Benjamin  Tallmadge  was  a  brilliant  cavalry 
captain ;  Brinton  Eliot,  a  good  soldier ;  the 
name  of  Nathan  Hale  has  stood  for  patri 
otism,  and  shall  stand.  Nor  must  the  bundle- 


Brinton  Eliot 

bearers  under  the  galleries  be  forgotten  — 
the  Freshmen,  fags  and  factotums  for  their 
overlords.  Have  they  not  red  blood  in  their 
veins?  Shall  they  not  rise  in  their  turn  to 
the  sunlit  heights  of  Seniorhood  and  receive 
homage  ?  They,  too,  have  their  fighting  men 

—  Lockwood,  Benedict,  Rice,  Starr,  Walker, 
West,   Woodbridge.      Are  their  names  not 
written    on    bronze    tablets    in    town   halls 
from  the  Merrimac  to  the  Hudson  ?     Thus 
in  the  old  brick  chapel,  on  that  dark  October 
morning,  sat  Yale  scholastic,  beneath  which 

—  invisible,  awaiting  the  flash  of  Pitcairn's 
pistols  on  Lexington  Common  —  slumbered 
Yale  militant,  Yale  in  arms ! 

When  prayers  had  ended,  President  Dag- 
gett  drew  a  paper  from  the  folds  of  his  black 
robe  and  read  rapidly,  with  a  manner  some 
what  perfunctory,  the  list  of  fines  for  the 
preceding  week.  Jonathan  Bellamy,  for 
bringing  brandy  into  his  chamber  and  enter 
taining  friends  there  after  nine  at  night,  was 
fined  two  shillings  and  sixpence;  Jonathan 
Bellamy  and  Abraham  Baldwin,  for  playing 
cards,  two  shillings ;  for  playing  at  swords, 
Hull  and  Humphreys,  one  shilling  each ;  for 
smashing  Freshman  Rice's  door,  Sophomore 
Selden,  one  shilling ;  for  glass  broken  in  the 
south  entry  of  Connecticut  Hall,  all  the 
scholars  in  that  entry  in  equal  proportion ; 
for  loud  singing  during  study  hour  and  call- 


Three  Sophomores  publicly  Admonished 

ing  to  a  classmate  through  a  window,  Fresh 
man  Benedict,  fourpence ;  for  visiting  Mix's 
tavern  on  College  Street,  Shadrach  Winslow, 
two  shillings  and  sixpence ;  for  being  out 
of  his  chamber  after  nine  at  night,  Samuel 
Williams,  sixpence ;  for  three  absences  from 
morning  prayers,  John  Wyllys,  threepence ; 
for  failure  to  declaim  in  Latin  on  Friday  last, 
Aaron  Bogue,  sixpence.  There  was  more  of 
the  same  nature,  but  it  is  not  to  the  present 
purpose.  The  president  read  rapidly,  and  as 
the  reading  was  a  matter  of  routine,  the  usual 
concomitant  of  Monday  morning  prayers,  it 
was  listened  to  with  indifference  by  the 
upper-class  men,  and  with  sundry  winks  and 
whispers  by  the  Freshmen,  some  of  whom 
were  being  fined  for  the  first  time.  Evidently 
this  was  not  the  event  of  the  morning. 

However,  when  President  Daggett  folded 
his  list  of  fines  and  stepped  to  the  edge  of 
the  platform,  it  was  plain  that  the  time  had 
come.  Everybody  was  awake  and  attentive. 
Joshua  Lamb,  whose  betting  propensity  was 
already  well  developed,  leaned  forward  in 
suppressed  excitement,  for  he  had  wagered 
the  sum  of  twopence  halfpenny  that  out  of 
the  three  offenders  he  could  pick  the  one 
whose  name  would  be  called  first,  and  had 
chosen  Brinton  Eliot;  Munson  Paddleford 
had  taken  the  bet.  But  President  Daggett, 
unconscious  of  this  crisis  in  the  Lamb  ex- 


Brinton  Eliot 

chequer,  gave  the  youthful  Joshua  a  lesson 
in  the  mutability  of  riches  by  remarking 
bruskly,  "  Benjamin  Tallmadge."  A  youth 
of  seventeen  years,  six  feet  one  inch  in  height, 
strong  and  well  built,  stood  up  in  his  pew, 
holding  his  hat  in  one  hand  and  grasping  the 
back  of  the  pew  in  front  of  him  with  the 
other.  His  face  was  attractive  (would  have 
been  handsome,  in  fact,  if  his  nose  had  been 
a  trifle  smaller,  less  broad  between  his  large 
gray  eyes,  and  nostrilled  less  heavily),  and 
though  he  was  well  dressed  —  in  a  brown 
coat,  black  stock,  and  light-colored  waist 
coat,  brown  knee-breeches,  white  stockings, 
and  shoes  with  black  buckles  —  yet  he  lacked 
that  foppish  elegance,  that  air  of  powder  and 
pomade,  which  marked  a  man  like  Hum 
phreys.  There  was  a  general  turning  of 
heads  among  the  Seniors  and  Juniors  in  the 
front  pews,  and  a  craning  of  necks  among 
the  Freshmen  under  the  gallery.  President 
Daggett  said  sharply,  "  Brinton  Eliot,"  and 
Benjamin  Tallmadge's  room-mate,  past  com 
panion  in  crime  (from  the  orthodox  stand 
point)  and  present  comrade  in  misery,  rose  in 
the  adjoining  pew.  Eliot  was  the  same  age 
as  Tallmadge,  and  shorter  by  two  inches ;  the 
breadth  of  his  shoulders  and  his  muscular 
development  surpassed  his  friend's,  and  the 
beauty  of  his  face  was  quite  remarkable,  for 
though  he  was  handsomer  than  Hull  or 

16 


Three  Sophomores  publicly  Admonished 

Humphreys,  he  had  none  of  the  pink  and 
white  prettiness  common  enough  in  youths 
of  his  age.  Features  pronounced  but  clear- 
cut,  a  very  white  skin,  cheeks  without  color, 
heavy  black  hair,  and  brown  eyes  so  dark 
that  they  seemed  black,  were  in  themselves 
nothing  remarkable ;  but  the  perfection  of 
every  line,  and  the  skilful  way  in  which 
everything  was  blended,  made  nature's 
handiwork  a  success,  and  Eliot's  beauty 
unique,  robust,  and  entirely  masculine. 
Clad  in  a  coat  and  breeches  of  dark  blue 
cloth,  a  black  stock,  and  a  bright  red  waist 
coat,  he  stood  erect,  looking  at  the  president 
with  an  expression  which  said  plainly,  "  Now 
I  shall  catch  it,  but  I  don't  care."  For  the 
third  time  President  Daggett's  voice  sounded, 
and  at  the  words,  "  Nathan  Hale,"  a  youth  of 
sixteen  with  an  open,  amiable  countenance, 
light  blue  eyes,  rosy  cheeks,  and  brown  hair, 
rose  in  his  turn,  blushing  and  somewhat  ner 
vous  at  finding  himself,  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life,  in  the  role  of  a  reprobate.  He  was 
a  well-bred,  high-minded  lad,  much  loved  by 
his  classmates,  and  had  he  been  out  of  the 
question,  Tallmadge  would  have  looked  less 
serious,  and  Eliot  less  defiant.  This,  then, 
was  the  event  of  the  morning,  and  to  the 
gaping  Freshmen  under  the  gallery  it  was 
doubtless  the  world  turned  upside  down. 

Yet  the  crime  of  these  three  Sophomores,  as 
c  17 


Brinton  Eliot 

seen  through  the  vista  of  one  hundred  and 
thirty  years,  does  not  strike  the  modern  mind 
as  particularly  appalling,  but  it  must  be  re 
membered  that  some  very  worthy  men  and 
some  very  worthless  notions  came  over  in  the 
Mayflower. 

Erect  in  his  long  black  robe,  the  president 
looked  at  the  offenders.  His  nose  was  straight 
and  sharp,  his  lips  thin,  his  eyebrows  dark, 
his  eyes  quick  and  keen,  his  wrinkled,  clean 
shaven  face,  crowned  by  a  great  white  wig, 
venerable  and  imposing.  "  He  had,"  says 
one  who  knew  him  well,  "very  just  concep 
tions  of  the  manner  in  which  a  college  should 
be  governed,  but  was  not  equally  happy  in 
the  mode  of  administering  its  discipline." 
So  be  it;  the  shortcomings  of  the  prases 
are  to  the  credit  of  the  man,  for  beneath  his 
buckram  exterior,  Naphtali  Daggett  was  a 
man.  To  much  learning  he  joined  some 
wit ;  to  sincere  piety,  the  courage  of  his  con 
victions  ;  but  the  goggles  of  bigotry,  the  spec 
tacles  of  John  Calvin  of  Geneva,  did  not 
always  rest  easily  on  his  nose,  nor  did  he  find  it 
always  a  simple  matter  to  fill,  to  the  satisfaction 
of  God  and  of  the  corporation,  the  position 
of  presses,  a  being  orthodox  and  Olympian. 
He  spoke  clearly  and  with  emphasis. 

"In  publicly  admonishing  three  scholars 
of  Yale  College,  who,  in  violation  of  its  rules, 
have  attended  a  dance  at  Milford,  I  am  moved 

18 


Three  Sophomores  publicly  Admonished 

to  exhort  you  all  against  the  sin  of  dancing, 
a  practice  both  pernicious  and  degrading. 
He  who  would  cleanse  his  way  must  eschew 
it.  Am  I  told  that  the  persons  gathered  at 
that  dance  were  respectable  ?  I  answer, 
'  God  is  no  respecter  of  persons.'  In  the 
time  of  the  late  President  Clap,  the  Rev. 
George  Whitefield  preached  in  this  chapel 
a  sermon  on  the  sin  of  dancing.  So  deeply 
were  the  scholars  moved,  that  when  the  evan 
gelist  would  have  departed  in  his  chaise,  they 
went  again  into  the  chapel  and  begged  me 
to  entreat  him  that  he  would  give  them  one 
more  quarter  of  an  hour's  exhortation.  Are 
times  changed  ?  O  tempora !  O  mores  I 
What  men  and  manners  do  we  see  now  in 
Connecticut !  Young  gentlemen,  you  are  to 
follow  in  the  footsteps  of  your  forefathers. 
Whatever  else  may  change  in  the  world 
about  you,  the  words  of  Holy  Writ  change 
not,  and  in  Holy  Writ  I  read  that  *  they  that 
have  done  good,  shall  come  forth  unto  the 
resurrection  of  life,  and  they  that  have  done 
evil,  unto  the  resurrection  of  damnation.' " 

In  his  prologue  President  Daggett  had 
been  orthodox;  in  his  peroration  he  became 
Olympian  and  hurled  his  thunderbolts. 

"  Therefore,"  said  he,  sternly,  "  Benjamin 
Tallmadge,  Brinton  Eliot,  and  Nathan  Hale 
are  fined  for  their  offence,  in  the  sum  of  four 
shillings  each.  Furthermore,  they  shall  serve, 


Brinton  Eliot 

each  in  turn,  one  week  as  butler's  waiter ;  dur 
ing  which  time  they  shall  ring  the  bell  and 
perform  faithfully  all  duties  pertaining  thereto. 
Finally,  for  the  remainder  of  the  term,  they 
shall  be  deprived  of  the  services  of  Freshmen 
to  do  their  errands  and  proper  behests.  Let 
them  now  come  forward." 

They  came  forward,  bearing  with  them 
the  good  will  and  sympathy  of  a  small  and 
highly-organized  community,  a  body  breath 
less  and  undergraduate ;  for  Dr.  Daggett,  as 
Olympian  Jove,  had  created  a  profound  sen 
sation.  Mounting  the  steps  of  the  platform, 
they  stood  before  him  —  three  manly  figures, 
in  brown,  in  dark  blue,  and  in  gray.  There 
was  a  moment  of  oppressive  silence ;  the 
right  hand  of  the  presses  rose  slowly  and 
majestically ;  three  sharp  thwacks  followed ; 
the  president  had  boxed  the  ears  of  each. 
Here,  then,  was  a  nine  days'  wonder,  a  topic 
to  be  well  tongue-twisted  at  the  table,  in  the 
chamber,  and  in  the  college  yard.  And  now, 
to  breakfast !  to  breakfast !  strong  in  the  self- 
content  of  a  day  well  begun  —  for  whatever 
his  shortcomings  may  have  been  at  other 
times,  surely  on  that  October  morning  Naph- 
tali  Daggett  had  rilled,  to  the  satisfaction  of 
God  and  of  the  corporation,  the  position  of 
presses,  a  being  at  once  orthodox  and  Olym 
pian. 

President  Daggett  came  down  the  centre 


20 


Three  Sophomores  publicly  Admonished 

aisle,  between  two  lines  of  upper-class  men 
who,  with  their  cocked  hats  under  their  arms, 
bowed  as  he  passed.  They  did  well,  every 
one  of  them,  for  the  president  was  a  patriot 
and  a  man  of  parts.  Did  he  not,  two  days 
after  his  election,  answer  a  wag's  "  You  are, 
I  suppose,  presses  pro  tempore  ? "  with  a 
curt  "  Certainly;  would  you  have  me  prases 
pro  eternitate  ?  "  A  man,  therefore,  of  some 
wit,  whose  last  days  shall  be  his  best  days, 
for  Naphtali  Daggett  was  a  fighting  presi 
dent,  to  the  glory  of  orthodoxy  and  of  Yale. 

Looking  forward  a  few  years,  behold,  in 
the  tower  of  this  chapel,  on  a  July  morning 
in  '79,  Ezra  Stiles,  presses,  spy-glass  in  hand, 
searching  the  horizon.  Is  he  there  to  observe 
the  motions  of  the  heavenly  bodies  ?  Shall 
the  scholars  of  a  small  and  highly-organized 
community  study,  on  this  5th  of  July,  Mar 
tin's  "  Philosophic  Grammar,"  or  the  "  Amesii 
Medulla  "  ?  Hark  !  The  bell  of  the  college 
chapel  is  clanging ;  across  the  Green  the  bell 
of  the  brick  meeting-house  is  clanging ;  all 
bells  are  clanging,  "  To  arms !  "  Housewives 
are  barring  windows,  householders  bearing 
flint-locks  to  the  flag-pole,  for  Savin  Rock 
has  seen  the  ships  of  war,  and,  on  the  road 
from  Milford,  three  brass-helmeted,  red-coated 
regiments  of  His  Britannic  Majesty.  Shall 
the  Green  see  them  likewise  ?  Not  if  scholars 
and  shopkeepers,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  can 

21 


Brinton  Eliot 

prevent !  Alas  !  if  from  its  four  hundred  and 
fifty  houses  New  Haven  should  send  forth 
each  man  and  woman,  each  blue-eyed  babe 
and  gray-haired  dame,  the  ranks  of  its  de 
fenders  could  not  surpass  in  numbers  the 
three  thousand  redcoats  of  Britannic  Majesty; 
New  Haven's  fighting  men  must  battle  one 
to  five.  Nothing  daunted,  however,  the  citi 
zens  of  New  Haven  and  the  students  of  Yale 
College,  roughly  armed  and  hastily  organized 
in  two  volunteer  companies,  the  one  com 
manded  by  James  Hillhouse,  Captain  of 
Governor's  Foot  Guards,  the  other  by  Colonel 
Aaron  Burr,  sometime  Vice-President,  ad 
vance  along  the  Milford  road  to  the  bridge 
over  West  River.  They  march  rapidly ;  and 
as  they  march,  there  rides  by  them,  jolting 
on  his  old  black  mare,  Ex-President  Daggett, 
his  cocked  hat  set  threateningly  on  his  white 
wig,  his  thin  lips  grim  with  determination, 
and  a  musket  in  his  hand.  He  is  a  doctor 
of  divinity,  yet  it  is  fitting  that  he  rides  this 
day  in  the  van  of  fighting  men,  for  "  Israel 
and  the  Philistines  have  put  the  battle  in 
array,  army  against  army."  Having  taken 
the  van,  he  keeps  it,  and  with  the  thing  at 
issue,  amid  the  roll  of  drums  and  the  rattle 
of  musketry,  plants  himself  beyond  the  bridge 
at  West  River,  and  having  planted  himself,  he 
will  not  budge.  There  is  sharp  shooting,  he 
will  not  budge;  Britannic  Majesty's  represen- 

22 


Three  Sophomores  publicly  Admonished 

tatives  advance,  red-coated,  three  thousand 
strong,  he  will  not  budge;  the  volunteer  com 
panies  recross  the  river,  he  will  not  budge ; 
the  bridge  is  broken  down  behind  him,  he 
will  not  budge;  and  thus  the  British  find  him, 
where  the  Milford  road  ascends  the  hill,  alone, 
his  cocked  hat  still  threatening,  loading  and 
firing  that  old  flint-lock  of  his  with  surprising 
vigor.  Hear,  then,  General  Tryon,  British 

Commander :  "  You  d d  old  fool,  what  are 

you  doing  here,  firing  on  His  Majesty's  sol 
diers  ?"  "Exercising  the  rights  of  war." 
"  Bah !  If  we  let  you  go,  will  you  fire  on  us 
again?"  "  Nothing  more  likely."  They  seize 
him,  rifle  his  pockets,  beat  him  with  the  butts 
of  their  guns,  and  drive  him  before  them  by 
way  of  Westville,  under  a  blazing  sun,  damn 
ing  him  and  prodding  him  with  their  bay 
onets,  —  a  treatment  he  will  not  long  survive. 
Such  was  Dr.  Daggett's  glorious  day, — a  day 
on  which  the  patriot  outranked  the  presses. 

But  now  he  comes  —  down  the  centre  aisle 
of  the  college  chapel,  his  tutors  at  his  back,  be 
tween  two  lines  of  bowing  upper-class  men  — 
clad  in  his  long  black  gown  and  great  white 
wig,  he  comes.  Hats  off,  then,  to  Naphtali, 
prases  pro  tempore,  lord  of  the  college  world  ! 


CHAPTER   II 

AT    COMMONS    AND    ELSEWHERE 

AFTER  leaving  the  chapel,  President  Dag- 
gett  returned  to  his  house  for  breakfast,  and 
there  he  was  to  remain,  reading  in  his  study, 
Wollaston  or  Wollebius,  until  eleven,  when, 
as  his  tall  clock  with  its  six  silvery  bells, 
chimed  the  hour  and  the  blue  College  Hall 
answered  from  its  clock-decked  cupola,  he 
would  be  seen  faring  classward  to  hear  Sen 
iors  recite  memoriter  in  the  Septuagint  But 
the  students,  striding  over  the  wet  October 
leaves,  went  to  commons,  and,  with  a  racket 
of  heels  and  a  babble  of  voices,  crowded  into 
the  dining  hall  in  College. 

The  hall  with  its  white  wainscot,  its  green, 
close-grained  "  landscape  paper,"  and  its  high 
windows  with  their  many  little  panes,  had, 
like  everything  else  about  the  blue  child  of 
miracle,  "  an  air  of  grandeur."  Six  long  tables, 
covered  with  holland  board-cloths,  stood  on 
the  sanded  floor  and  were  decked  with  bright 
pewter  platters,  trenchers  made  from  the 
white  hard  wood  of  Vermont  poplars,  milk- 
pots,  sugar-pots,  glass  trencher-salts,  sneakers, 

24 


At  Commons  and  Elsewhere 

spoon-boats,  knives,  forks,  and  the  like. 
These  plenishings  held  the  breakfast  —  bacon, 
baked  potatoes,  cheat  loaves,  brown  bread, 
milk,  and  water  —  a  meal  much  less  popular 
than  dinner,  at  which  tankards  of  good  beer 
passed  industriously  from  hand  to  hand  and 
from  mouth  to  mouth.  At  the  end  of  the 
hall  there  was  a  smaller  table,  at  which  the 
tutors  dined  decorously  amid  the  students' 
din,  while  on  the  east  wall  hung  a  portrait 
of  Governor  Elihu  Yale.  He  stood  then  as 
he  stands  to-day  —  in  his  lofty  peruke,  his 
white  cravat,  his  long-skirted  coat,  and  his 
embroidered  waistcoat — gazing  benignly  from 
his  gilded  frame.  Elihu  —  whose  surname, 
than  which  there  is  no  watchword  more  po 
tent,  "the  children  and  the  fathers,  with 
united  hearts,  shall  sing ! " 

As  the  students  took  their  places,  the 
dining  hall  was  filled  with  the  babel  of  many 
voices,  but  when  each  table  had  its  quota  of 
eighteen  the  noise  ceased  suddenly;  the  Rev. 
Samuel  Wales  said  grace ;  sundry  Freshmen 
and  Sophomores  improved  the  opportunity 
by  sticking  their  forks  into  the  potatoes  as 
a  sign  of  ownership,  or  seizing  sugar-pots 
more  quickly  than  their  neighbors;  then 
every  one  sat  down  on  the  wooden  forms, 
and  babel  began  again.  Breakfast  was  usually 
a  more  quiet  meal  than  dinner  or  supper,  but 
on  that  October  morning  was  not  the  world 

25 


Brinton  Eliot 

agog  at  Naphtali's  thunderbolts  ?  What  ,the 
tutors  talked  of  is  not  to  the  present  pur 
pose;  undergraduate  conversation  may  be 
surmised,  and  since  those  who  formed  its 
topic  sat  at  a  certain  table,  that  table  de 
mands  attention.  On  one  side  was  Roger 
Alden,  Benjamin  Tallmadge,  Brinton  Eliot, 
Royal  Flint,  Elihu  Marvin,  Ezra  Sampson ; 
on  the  other,  James  Hillhouse,  Nathan  Hale, 
Joshua  Lamb,  Ezra  Selden,  Munson  Paddle- 
ford,  and  John  Wyllys.  There  were  also  at 
that  table  certain  Sophomores  who  were 
strictly  orthodox,  who  kept  religiously  each 
and  every  college  rule,  who  learned  memo- 
riter  countless  passages  in  the  Septuagint, 
who  recited  Watts's  "  Logic "  in  a  manner 
worthy  of  all  praise,  but  who,  unfortunately, 
did  little  else.  They  are  nameless  here,  for 
their  names  are  not  written  on  bronze  tablets 
in  town  halls,  nor  are  they  the  Davids  who 
will  march  one  day  to  meet  the  great  Goliath, 
George  the  Third,  of  Great  Britain,  France, 
and  Ireland,  King. 

"  Drat  it,  Brinton,"  said  Joshua  Lamb,  "  I 
lost  on  you." 

"  You  lost  on  me  ? "  answered  Eliot. 
"How?" 

"  I  bet  twopence  halfpenny  with  Munson 
that  Prex  'ud  call  you  first,  but  he  called 
Ben." 

"  '  Mutton,'  "  said  Eliot,  laughing,  "  '  I  am 
26 


At  Commons  and  Elsewhere 

moved  to  exhort  you  against  the  sin '  of 
betting,  'a  practice  both  pernicious  and  de 
grading.'  Ezra,  before  yqu  eat  all  those 
potatoes,  you  might  flip  one  over  here.  How 
are  your  ears,  Nathan  ?  " 

"  They  tingle  a  trifle  still." 

"  I'm  sorry.  If  Ben  and  I  hadn't  coaxed 
you,  you  wouldn't  have  gone.  We  are 
hopeless,  I  suppose.  At  least,  we're  not 
orthodox.  But  it's  a  damn  shame  to  have 
you  boxed." 

"  Egad !  "  said  Nathan,  laughing,  "  I  can 
stand  it  as  well  as  you  can,  I'll  be  bound!" 

"  All  the  same,"  said  Joshua,  "  you  turned 
as  red  as  Brinton's  vest." 

"  Listen  to  '  Mutton  ' !  "  exclaimed  James 
Hillhouse.  u  Vest !  Any  one  would  know 
he  came  from  Pennsylvania.  Why  don't  you 
say  waistcoat  ? " 

"  Oh,  you're  always  twitting  me  about  the 
way  I  talk,"  said  Joshua.  "  Anyhow,  Penn 
sylvania's  got  the  biggest  city  in  the  colonies, 
so  shut  up  and  gimme  the  butter." 

The  request  came  a  few  seconds  too  late, 
for  Hillhouse  had  already  passed  the  butter 
to  Tallmadge.  Tallmadge  helped  himself 
and  then,  to  Joshua's  annoyance,  handed  the 
butter  to  Roger  Alden,  for  Tallmadge  was 
thinking  of  other  things. 

"Nathan,"  said  he,  "I've  been  talking  it 
over  with  Brinton,  and  we're  going  to  pay 

27 


Brinton  Eliot 

your  four  shillings.  Then  if  we  can  fix 
Fitch,  and  I  think  we  can,  Brinton  and  I 
will  take  turns  at  the  bell  during  your 
week." 

"  Gad ! "  said  Joshua,  reaching  in  front  of 
Nathan  for  the  butter,  "that's  what  I  call 
white !  " 

"  You  won't  do  anything  of  the  sort !  "  ex 
claimed  Nathan.  "  I  won't  listen  to  such  a 
thing ! " 

"  Put  cotton  in  your  ears,  then,"  said  Eliot, 
laughing. 

Nathan  continued  to  protest.  Brinton 
asked  him  how  long  he  had  run  Tallmadge, 
Eliot  &  Company;  Ben  remained  firm,  and 
Alden,  Marvin,  Paddleford,  and  Hillhouse 
declared  the  Tallmadge-Eliot  proposition  to 
be  the  correct  thing.  All  this  made  it  diffi 
cult  for  Nathan  to  know  what  to  do.  He 
loved  his  friends,  and  their  regard  for  him 
was  so  plainly  shown  that  it  touched  him 
deeply.  As  he  buttered  his  bread  vigorously, 
no  one  suspected  that  he  had  hard  work  to 
keep  the  tears  out  of  his  eyes. 

"  Brinton,"  said  he,  "  don't  be  a  fool.  Your 
asking  me  to  go  has  nothing  to  do  with  it. 
I  went  and  got  caught ;  it's  my  luck,  I  sup 
pose.  Why  shouldn't  I  take  my  physic? 
Now,  Ben,  how  could  I  lie  abed  and  hear 
you  and  Brint  clanging  the  clapper  for  a 

week  ? " 

28 


At  Commons  and  Elsewhere 

"  When  you  hear  us  clang  the  clapper," 
said  Ben,  laughing,  "  all  you  have  to  do  is  to 
get  up." 

"  Yes,"  said  Brinton,  "  and  when  you  get  up 
eschew  jigs,  hornpipes,  and  contra-dances. 
Dancing's  no  sin  in  New  York,  but  in  Con 
necticut  it's  the  '  resurrection  of  damnation.' 
Prex's  yarn  about  Rev.  Whitefield  was  mon 
strous  likely !  Twopence  halfpenny  he  made 
it  up." 

Nathan  said  something  in  reply,  but  no 
one  heard  him  on  account  of  the  racket  the 
Freshmen  were  making  at  the  next  table. 
For  some  reason  they  were  pelting  Wood- 
bridge  with  potato  skins,  and  one  of  these 
struck  the  "  Moor  "  on  the  nose  as  he  came 
in  with  a  fresh  supply  of  bacon.  The  "  Moor  " 
belonged  to  President  Daggett,  who  held 
negroes  to  the  value  of  ,£100,  and  with  his 
black  face,  his  big  white  teeth,  his  red  tur 
ban,  his  blue  surdan,  and  his  long  apron,  he 
was  an  institution  in  his  way.  At  apple 
slump  and  apple  crowdy  he  was  a  success, 
in  hoe-cake,  journey-cake,  and  pumpkin  pie 
he  was  an  artist,  and  had  he  been  lord  of  the 
larder  some  forty  years  later,  the  "  Bread  and 
Butter  Rebellion  "  would  probably  not  have 
occurred.  "Hi!  'Fo'Gord!  Marse  Walker," 
he  cried,  "  what  you  gwine  do  ?  You  sutney 
wuz  gittin'  'larious."  Walker,  who  had  had 
no  intention  of  hitting  the  "  Moor,"  laughed 

29 


Brinton  Eliot 

heartily   and    made    some    answer,    but    at 
Nathan's  table  no  one  could  hear  it. 

"  '  Mutton,'  "  said  Royal  Flint,  "  have  you 
got  your  Tully  ?  " 

"  Did  you  ever  see  *  Mutton '  when  he 
had  ?  "  said  Brinton. 

Since  Joshua,  who  ate  rapidly  and  had 
finished  his  breakfast,  was  reading  a  book, 
and  was  apparently  more  studious  than  his 
neighbors,  this  sarcasm  seemed  wide  of  the 
mark.  The  book,  however,  was  not  Cicero 
but  the  "  Fifteen  Comforts  of  Matrimony." 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  talk,"  said  Joshua,  look 
ing  at  Brinton.  "  You  squab  as  often  as  Tim 
Dwight  gets  you  up." 

"  Do  I  ?  "  said  Brinton,  laughing.  "  Any 
how  Tully's  tough  to-day.  At  least  Ben 
says  so ;  I  haven't  looked  at  it.  However, 
I've  a  fit  for  Trum's  class.  I've  read  his 
last  essay  in  the  Post-boy.  It's  most  amaz 
ing  funny." 

"  I  didn't  know  Trum  wrote  for  the  Post 
boy"  remarked  Hillhouse. 

"Don't  he!"  said  Brinton.  "He's  been 
writing  ever  since  February.  He  signs  'em 
the  '  Correspondent.'  You  can  read  'em  in 
the  library.  Old  Sam  Wales  likes  Wiggles- 
worth's  '  Day  of  Doom,'  but  Trum  says  that 
'  Tom  Jones '  is  literature  and  the  '  Day  of 
Doom  '  is  rot.  Trum  for  belles-lettres  against 
the  world ! " 

30 


At  Commons  and  Elsewhere 

"  If  Trum  had  his  way,"  said  John  Wyllys, 
"  we'd  have  some  literature  in  this  college." 

44  You  bet  we  would  !  "  said  Brinton.  "  He'd 
pitch  Vincent's  '  Catechism  'out  of  one  window, 
and  Martin's  '  Grammar '  out  of  another,  and 
we'd  read  Addison,  Pope,  Steele,  Swift,  Gay, 
Fielding,  and  a  lot  of  other  duffers  who,  though 
not  exactly  orthodox,  are  damned  amusing." 

Then  Munson  Paddleford  asked  Joshua 
what  the  lesson  in  mathematics  was,  but 
Joshua,  whose  ideas  on  the  subject  were 
somewhat  vague,  took  advantage  of  the  fact 
that  every  one  was  jumping  up  from  table, 
answered  that  he  hadn't  time  to  tell,  and 
joined  the  exodus  from  the  dining  hall. 

"  Come,  Brinton,"  said  Tallmadge,  when 
they  reached  the  yard,  "  we've  half  an  hour 
before  study.  Let's  go  and  fix  Fitch." 

"  It  can't  be  done  too  soon,"  said  Eliot. 
"  Dear  old  Nathan !  Did  you  look  at  him 
when  you  made  the  proposition  ?  He  was 
quite  cut  up.  He'll  try  to  serve  his  week  if 
he  can." 

"  He  shan't  do  it !  "  exclaimed  Tallmadge. 

"No,"  replied  Eliot,  "he  shan't.  And 
what's  more,  I'll  bet  you  ten  shillings  there 
are  plenty  of  Freshmen  who'll  fag  for  him 
whether  he  tells  them  to  or  not,  or  whether 
Prex  says  they  can  or  not.  Every  Freshman 
worships  the  ground  Nathan  walks  on." 

"  I'm  sure  of  that,  but  Nathan  will  never 
31 


Brinton  Eliot 

ask  them  to  fag  now,  since  Prex  has  taken 
away  the  privilege." 

"  Certainly  not.  But  if  he  wants  his  shoes 
cleaned,  there's  nothing  to  prevent  his  leav 
ing  them  outside  his  door.  A  Freshman 
happens  along  and  rubs  them  up  with  black 
ball.  If  he  wants  a  bundle  delivered,  what's 
to  hinder  his  dropping  it  in  a  certain  place 
and  scratching  a  line  of  direction  ?  Gad !  if 
the  thing  doesn't  work,  I'll  play  Freshman 
year  over  again  and  fag  for  him  myself." 

"That's  good,"  said  Tallmadge.  "I'll  do 
the  same.  That  reminds  me;  the  Seniors 
are  going  to  give  the  Freshmen  advice  in 
the  chapel  at  three  o'clock  this  afternoon. 
Humphreys  invited  me  to  see  it  and  told  me 
to  bring  you." 

"  Well,"  said  Brinton,  "  that's  very  decent 
in  Humphreys,  especially  since  Linonia  hit 
Brothers  amazing  hard  in  the  last  statement 
of  facts." 

They  had  reached  Connecticut  Hall,  and 
Brinton,  stepping  into  the  south  entry,  threw 
open  the  door  of  the  buttery.  The  room 
was  a  merry  medley  of  eatables  and  drink 
ables.  Under  the  wooden  counter  were  two 
casks  of  beer  and  ale,  while  on  the  white 
shelves  stood  in  picturesque  profusion,  pipes, 
tobacco,  pint  pots,  quart  pots,  flip  irons,  can 
dles,  biscuits,  boxes  of  blackball,  trenchers  of 
cakes,  bowls  of  walnuts,  and  jars  of  almonds 

32 


At  Commons  and  Elsewhere 

and  figs,  for  since  no  scholar  might  lawfully 
enter  a  tavern,  it  was  fitting  that  the  where 
withal  to  nourish  and  refresh  his  belly  should 
be  furnished  him  at  small  cost  by  an  omnip 
otent  prceses  et  sociL  Mr.  Samuel  Fitch, 
butler,  stout,  clean-shaven,  ruddy,  with  a  clay 
pipe  in  his  mouth,  and  a  quill  pen  over  his 
ear,  leaned  on  the  counter,  absorbed  in  the 
numerical  problems  of  his  stiff,  paper-covered 
account-books.  He  looked  up  as  the  door 
opened  and  removed  his  pipe  from  his  mouth. 

"  Egad  !  Mr.  Eliot,"  said  he,  " '  talking  of 
snow,'  as  the  parson  said,  last  August,  when 
he  was  preaching  at  Lem  Hopkins's  funeral, 
*  'tis  neither  where  we  are  nor  where  he  is.' 
But  talking  of  pounds  and  pence  is  to  the 
point  between  us." 

"Yes,"  said  Brinton,  laughing,  "that's 
usually  the  point  between  us.  You've  been 
figuring  my  account,  I  fancy." 

"  I  have  been  figuring  your  account,  sir. 
Od's  life !  a  mixed  account,  sir,  and  one  re 
quiring  a  Newton  to  compute  —  I  say  a 
Newton,  knowing  the  simile  —  I  am  versed  ! 
But  to  come  to  the  point,  sir,  as  Mr.  Gay 
says  in  the  Beggar's  Opera,  to  come  to  the 
point  —  the  sum  is  four  pounds,  six,  and  four. 
A  tidy  sum,  sir,  to  go  down  the  gullet  and 
up  the  chimney  in  a  sennight.  I  know  a 
duke  in  Hampshire  who  endowed  a  hospital 
with  less." 

D  33 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  That  hospital,  I  take  it,"  said  Brinton, 
laughing,  "was  on  short  rations.  However, 
you'll  have  to  add  another  four  shillings  to 
my  account.  I  was  fined  in  chapel  this 
morning.  I  suppose  you  were  there." 

"  I  was  there,"  replied  Mr.  Fitch,  solemnly, 
puffing  a  cloud  of  smoke  toward  the  ceiling, 
"  and  I  have  already  added  the  four  shillings. 
Ah !  that  such  likely  gentlemen  as  your 
selves  should  come  to  it  —  to  be  publicly 
admonished  —  aye,  and  boxed !  and  all  for 
the  sake  of  treading  a  measure  with  a  petti 
coat.  Fie  on't !  I  am  an  admirer  of  the 
sex  myself ;  I  am  an  admirer,  but  I  am  ortho 
dox.  I  have  never  danced  with  a  woman  in 
my  life." 

"  You  don't  know  what  you've  missed," 
said  Brinton,  laughing.  At  which  Tall- 
mad^e  chuckled  and  Mr.  Fitch  smiled. 

c!} 

"  The  four  shillings  doesn't  worry  us,"  said 
Tallmadge.  "  The  thing  that  troubles  us  is 
that  Nathan  was  fined  too." 

"Gad!"  said  Mr.  Fitch,  soberly,  "what  a 
misfortune  that  so  exemplary  a  lad,  so  fine  a 
scholar  —  only  last  Saturday  I  overheard  him 
reciting  Tully.  What  ease  !  what  cadence ! 
I  am  versed  !  —  that  so  fine  a  scholar  should 
be  publicly  admonished  —  aye,  and  —  " 

"Boxed!"  said  Brinton,  "boxed,  and  'all 
for  the  sake  of  treading  a  measure  with  a 
petticoat.  Fie  on't ! '  We  know  all  about 

34 


At   Commons  and  Elsewhere 

that.  But  you  see  Nathan  cannot  well  afford 
to  pay  fines,  and  moreover  he  should  not 
have  been  fined  at  all.  Anyway,  we  have 
come  to  pay  his  fine  for  him.  Now,  if  you 
will  charge  it  up  to  Tallmadge  and  to  me, 
we'll  be  ever  so  much  —  " 

"  Impossible  !  "  said  Mr.  Fitch.  "  Quite  im 
possible  !  " 

"  Impossible  ?  "  cried  Ben.     "  Why  ?  " 

"  Evidently  you  have  forgotten  the  presi 
dent's  charge  that  you  were  to  be  fined  in 
the  sum  of  four  shillings  each." 

"What  difference  can  it  make  to  Prex 
who  pays  the  fine  ?  "  said  Ben.  "  A  fine  is  a 
fine." 

"Quite  true,"  said  Mr.  Fitch,  "a  fine  is  a 
fine,  but  a  command  is  a  command,  and  a 
presses  —  Od's  fish  !  a  prczses  is  "Jupiter  om 
nipotent  '  —  I  see  you  recall  the  line.  I  am 
versed ! " 

"  Of  course  you  are,"  said  Brinton.  "  Any 
man  who  can  make  metheglin  and  mix  mobby 
punch  as  you  can,  and  at  the  same  time  quote 
Latin,  Greek,  and  Hebrew,  and  the  Lord 
knows  what  plays  and  poets,  is  a  genius.  It's 
most  amazing  clever." 

"  Yes,"  said  Ben,  "  there's  enough  solid 
learning  in  your  head  to  sink  a  man-o'-wrar. 
But  I  fancy  if  all  the  knowledge  that  Brinton 
and  I  have  was  thrown  overboard  'twould 
bob  around  like  a  cork." 

35 


Brinton  Eliot 

Mr.  Fitch,  touched  in  his  weak  point, 
smiled  graciously. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  he,  "  the  matter  can  be 
arranged  after  all.  Suppose  I  transfer  Male's 
fine  to  your  accounts,  as  you  desire,  and 
charge  you  each  sixpence  as  a  slight  per 
quisite  for  the  labor  I  must  perform  in  mak 
ing  the  necessary  changes  in  my  books. 
How  will  that  do?" 

"  Perfectly,"  replied  Brinton.  "  But  there 
is  the  matter  of  butler's  waiter  still  to  be 
settled.  We  don't  want  Nathan  to  serve." 

"  Oh,  you  don't ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Fitch. 
"Why  not?" 

"  Well,"  said  Ben,  "  because  —  you  see  — 
Nathan  —  well,  we  haven't  time  to  explain. 
Brinton  and  I  want  to  serve  his  week  as 
well  as  our  own." 

Mr.  Fitch  scratched  the  end  of  his  nose. 

"  I  should  be  most  happy  to  have  either  of 
you,  or  both,"  he  said,  at  length,  "  but  I  am  of 
opinion  that  if  I  change  all  of  Dr.  Daggett's 
commands,  I  shall  defy  the  lightning." 

"  Mr.  Benjamin  Franklin  has  made  very 
successful  experiments  with  lightning,"  said 
Brinton,  quickly,  "  and  I  am  sure  you're  a 
greater  man  than  he." 

This  proved  too  much  for  the  worthy  butler, 
a  man  of  much  erudition  but  very  susceptible 
to  flattery,  and  he  surrendered  at  discretion. 
"  Fitch  the  preserver  and  victory !  "  cried 

36 


At  Commons  and  Elsewhere 

Brinton,  misquoting  Xenophon.  Pots  of  ale 
were  ordered  immediately;  the  health  of  Mr. 
Fitch  was  drunk  in  a  manner  worthy  of  Lord 
Chesterfield ;  and  in  such  fashion  were  flung 
to  the  four  winds  of  heaven  the  commands 
of  a  prceses. 


37 


CHAPTER    III 

IN    WHICH    FRESHMEN    RECEIVE    ADVICE 

BRINTON  had  no  opportunity  of  seeing 
Nathan  until  ten  o'clock,  when  the  Sopho 
mores  went  to  recite  logic  to  the  Rev. 
Samuel  Wales  in  a  room  on  the  ground  floor 
of  College,  which  some  one  had  dubbed  the 
"  chamber  of  horrors,"  probably  because  the 
recitations  in  Vincent's  "  Catechism,"  Watts's 
"  Logic,"  and  Wollebius's  "  Amesii  Medulla  " 
were  held  there.  The  class  was  going  in 
as  Brinton  arrived.  He  had  only  time  for  a 
hurried  word  with  Nathan,  and  then  they 
were  all  in  the  presence  of  the  Rev.  Samuel 
Wales,  who,  with  folded  arms,  raised  his  lofty 
head  above  his  desk.  As  when  Neptune, 
lifting  his  quiet  head  above  the  troubled 
waves,  looked  over  the  tossing  sea  and  the 
ships  of  y^Eneas,  buffeted  by  the  winds,  and 
by  his  glance  quelled  the  tempest  and  brought 
a  mighty  calm,  so  likewise,  under  the  eyes  of 
the  Rev.  Samuel  Wales,  the  buzz  of  conversa 
tion  died  away,  and  the  class  having  settled 
itself,  silence  reigned  in  the  "chamber  of 
horrors." 

33 


In  which   Freshmen  receive  Advice 

The  hour  passed  with  various  fortunes. 
Nathan  acquitted  himself  creditably,  as  he 
always  did ;  and  it  would  be  a  pleasant  thing 
to  be  able  to  say  that  Eliot,  when  his  turn 
came,  set  forth  the  logic  of  Watts  in  a 
manner  worthy  of  all  praise,  but  unfortunately 
nothing  of  the  kind  occurred.  Brinton's  reci 
tation  was  a  sad  affair  and  proved  conclu 
sively  that  he  knew  no  more  about  Watts's 
"  Logic  "  than  he  did  about  the  Newtonian 
system,  which  was  very  little  indeed.  The 
Rev.  Samuel  Wales  listened  with  ill-concealed 
annoyance  and  turned  with  a  sigh  of  relief 
to  more  shining  lights,  calling  upon  Ryder 
Dohm,  from  whose  mouth  flowed  no  mixed 
metaphors,  but  ideas  in  orderly  sequence, 
the  logic  of  the  immortal  Watts,  and  at  the 
sound  of  it  there  settled  upon  the  features 
of  the  Rev.  Samuel  Wales  unspeakable  pla 
cidity. 

When  the  clock-decked  cupola  struck 
eleven  there  was  a  general  stampede,  for, 
with  the  possible  exception  of  Dohm  every 
one  was  glad  to  escape  from  the  "  chamber 
of  horrors "  and  to  be  free  from  Watts  and 
Wales  for  twenty-four  hours.  The  Seniors 
were  assembling  to  recite  to  Dr.  Paggett  in 
the  Septuagint,  and  as  Brinton  and  Nathan 
came  out  to  the  yard  they  encountered 
Humphreys.  Brinton  hurried  forward  and 
thanked  Humphreys  cordially  for  his  kind- 

39 


Brinton  Eliot 

ness  in  inviting  him  to  see  the  Freshmen 
receive  advice. 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  said  Humphreys, 
pleasantly.  "  I  shall  be  happy  to  have  you 
come.  And  you  too,  Hale,  if  you  care  to." 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  come,"  said  Nathan, 
smiling. 

"  You  know  I  have  to  make  the  speech," 
said  Humphreys,  modestly,  "and  to  tell  you 
the  truth  I'm  a  bit  nervous  about  it.  I  sat  up 
working  on  it  last  night  until  poor  Leaven- 
worth,  who  was  trying  to  go  to  sleep,  called 
out,  '  For  God's  sake !  Dave,  blow  out  that 
candle  and  go  to  bed.' " 

"  I'm  sure  you'll  get  through  all  right,"  said 
Nathan. 

"  I  hope  so,"  replied  Humphreys.  "  You 
see  I  have  to  speak  for  the  class  and  for  the 
whole  college  in  a  way,  and  that's  quite  a 
responsibility." 

Then  as  they  saw  that  they  were  within  a 
few  feet  of  the  approaching  president,  they 
put  their  cocked  hats  under  their  arms  and 
bowed  as  Dr.  Daggett,  who  gave  them  a 
slight  salute,  passed  slowly  into  the  College 
Hall.  At  that  moment  Munson  Paddleford 
came  up  to  Humphreys  to  ask  permission  to 
discipline  Freshman  Rice,  for  Paddleford, 
being  a  Sophomore,  could  not  discipline  a 
Freshman  without  the  permission  of  a  Senior. 

"  What  has  he  done?"  inquired  Humphreys. 
40 


In  which   Freshmen   receive  Advice 

"  I  sent  him  on  an  errand,"  said  Munson, 
"  and  he  should  have  brought  me  back  an  an 
swer,  but  he  failed  to  appear." 

"  Oh,  in  that  case  I  give  you  leave  to  dis 
cipline  him,"  said  Humphreys,  smiling  gra 
ciously  as  he  joined  the  Seniors,  who  were 
going  in  to  recite  to  the  president. 

Brinton  and  Nathan  were  delighted  at  the 
manner  in  which  Humphreys  had  received 
them  and  not  a  little  flattered  at  being  taken 
into  his  confidence  in  regard  to  his  speech. 

"He's  certainly  a  trump!"  said  Brinton, 
enthusiastically.  "  Not  a  bit  stuck  up.  If 
we  had  been  in  his  own  class,  he  could  not 
have  treated  us  better.  Wasn't  that  funny 
about  Leavenworth  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Nathan,  "  that  was  funny.  But 
what  were  you  telling  me  that  you  and  Ben 
had  done  with  Fitch  ?  " 

Brinton  related  how  the  matter  of  serving 
as  butler's  waiter  had  been  settled,  and  Na 
than  appeared  much  touched. 

"  Brinton,"  said  he,  "  you're  a  dear  old  soul, 
and  so  is  Ben,  but  you're  both  fools.  I'm  go 
ing  to  serve  my  week  as  I  ought  to  do." 

"  No.  You  are  not,"  said  Brinton.  "  Ben 
and  I  won't  let  you." 

The  rain  stopped  about  noon,  and  at  three 
o'clock  the  sun  was  shining  brightly  when 
the  Senior  and  Freshman  classes  met  at  the 
chapel.  The  Seniors  formed  a  line  in  the 

41 


Brinton  Eliot 

gallery,  at  the  farther  end  of  which  sat  those 
Juniors  and  Sophomores  whom  Humphreys 
had  specially  invited  to  attend.  Shadrach 
Winslow,  '71,  was  master  of  ceremonies,  and 
when  the  Seniors  had  taken  their  positions 
and  placed  their  hats  on  their  heads,  Winslow 
opened  the  door  that  led  to  the  gallery  and 
ushered  forward  the  Freshmen,  who  filed  in 
with  their  hats  under  their  arms,  some  blush 
ing,  some  staring  straight  before  them,  and  all 
more  or  less  nervous  at  the  prospect  of  the 
unknown  ordeal  through  which  they  were  to 
pass.  Winslow  drew  them  up  in  line  facing 
the  Seniors,  and  then  walking  forward  took 
his  place  among  his  classmates.  Some  of 
the  Freshmen,  dropping  their  eyes  before  the 
steady  gaze  of  their  superiors,  looked  intently 
at  the  floor;  and  thus  they  stood  —  the  top 
and  bottom  of  the  college  social  system — 
and  what  a  gulf  between  them !  But  if  on 
that  October  afternoon  there  was  in  Yale 
College  one  man  who  could  successfully 
bridge  the  chasm  between  the  omnipotence  of 
the  Senior  and  the  nothingness  of  the  Fresh 
man,  it  was  he  who  now  stepped  forward, 
David  Humphreys,  '71. 

Humphreys  raised  his  cocked  hat,  saluted 
the  Freshmen  graciously,  and  replaced  his 
hat  on  his  head.  In  seeing  his  grace  and  his 
grand  manner  one  would  never  have  imag 
ined  that  he  had  sat  up  half  the  night  over 

42 


In  which  Freshmen  receive  Advice 

his  speech  or  that  he  had  written  and  rewrit 
ten  it  three  times.  He  held  his  snuff-box 
carelessly  but  impressively  in  his  left  hand, 
and  Eliot,  Hale,  and  Tallmadge,  who  sat 
together  among  the  Sophomores,  were 
charmed  by  his  gallant  air.  For  the  eigh 
teenth  century  was  preeminently  an  age  of 
forms,  and  the  courtly  bearing  of  Versailles 
came  over  the  sea  in  ships  even  to  Puritan 
New  England. 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  Class  of  '74,"  said 
Humphreys,  "  we  have  called  you  here  this 
afternoon  to  explain  to  you  certain  laws, 
usages,  and  customs  of  Yale  College  which 
it  is  necessary  that  you  should  know.  You 
are  to  be  uncovered  within  ten  rods  of  the 
person  of  the  president  and  within  five  rods 
of  the  persons  of  the  tutors.  When  you  have 
occasion  to  speak  to  any  member  of  an  upper- 
class  you  must  remove  your  hats,  and  you 
may  not  wear  your  hats  at  all  in  the  college 
yard,  until  the  May  vacation,  unless  you  carry 
something  in  your  hands.  You  shall  not  play 
with  any  member  of  an  upper-class  without 
being  asked,  nor  are  you  permitted  to  use  any 
acts  of  familiarity  with  them,  even  in  study 
time.  You  are  obliged  to  perform  all  reason 
able  errands  for  any  superior,  and  you  must 
always  return  an  account  of  the  same  to  the 
person  who  sends  you.  If  you  are  near  a 
gate  or  door  belonging  to  the  college,  you 

43 


Brinton  Eliot 

shall  look  around  and  observe  whether  any 
of  your  superiors  are  coming  to  the  same, 
and  if  they  are  coming  within  three  rods, 
you  shall  not  enter  without  a  signal  to  pro 
ceed.  You  shall  not  run  in  the  college  yard, 
or  up  or  down  stairs,  or  call  to  any  one  through 
a  window.  You  shall  not  smoke  your  pipes, 
save  in  your  own  chambers,  and  never  in  the 
presence  of  a  member  of  an  upper-class  with 
out  first  asking  his  permission  to  do  so. 

"  These  right  and  proper  customs  we,  who 
are  soon  to  leave  Yale,  look  to  you  to  carry 
on,  for  they  have  existed  before  we  were  born 
and  will  exist,  I  trust,  long  after  we  are  dead. 
I  regret  to  say  that  some  among  you  have 
already  shown  a  spirit  of  self-conceit  and  for 
wardness  quite  contrary  to  that  which  you 
should  exhibit,  for  on  the  threshold  of  your 
college  careers  it  is  necessary  that  you  learn 
obedience  and  subordination  to  your  supe 
riors,  not  only  for  your  success  as  members 
of  Yale  College,  but  also  for  your  happiness 
as  citizens  of  His  Majesty's  Colonies.  We 
live  in  critical  times,  and  if  the  events  which 
occurred  last  March  in  Boston,  and  with 
which  you  are  familiar,  should  be  repeated, 
who  can  say  what  may  be  the  outcome  for 
us  all  ? 

"  In  conclusion,  Gentlemen  of  the  Class  of 
'74,  we  desire  to  have  you  look  upon  us  as  your 
friends,  to  come  to  us  in  times  of  difficulty, 

44 


In  which   Freshmen  receive  Advice 

for  we  are  your  natural  protectors  and  your 
court  of  last  appeal.  All  that  we  require  you 
to  do,  we  ourselves  have  done ;  all  that  you 
will  experience  here,  we  ourselves  have  expe 
rienced  ;  and  though  we  are  Seniors  and  you 
are  Freshmen,  yet  there  is  one  point  where 
we  can  all  meet  on  common  ground,  for  I  am 
sure  that  in  your  hearts,  as  in  ours,  there 
burns  a  love  for  dear  old  Yale.  Therefore, 
join  me  now  in  the  cry,  Diu  fioreat  Alma 
Mater  Yalensia!  "  and  Humphreys,  whipping 
off  his  cocked  hat,  gave  the  signal. 

The  effect  was  electric,  and  the  walls  of  the 
brick  chapel  rang  with  the  shouts  of  Seniors 
and  Freshmen,  Sophomores  and  Juniors, — 
"  Diu  fioreat  Alma  Mater  Yalensia!" 


45 


CHAPTER   IV 

AT    THE    SIGN    OF   THE    "  COCK    AND    CROWN" 

TALLMADGE  and  Eliot  served  in  turn,  as 
butler's  waiter,  in  spite  of  Nathan's  protests, 
and  upon  one  occasion  when  Nathan  had 
declared  that  he  would  ring  the  rising-bell 
on  the  following  morning,  Brinton  was  up 
in  the  chapel  tower  at  half -past  five,  and 
pulled  the  bell-rope  furiously  for  six  minutes 
by  way  of  informing  Nathan  that  there  was 
no  use  in  his  coming.  This  proceeding 
caused  considerable  commotion.  Those  who 
had  promptly  tumbled  out  of  bed,  dressed  in 
haste,  and  rushed  down  stairs,  were  not  in  a 
cheerful  frame  of  mind  when  they  found  that 
they  had  ,a  full  half-hour  in  which  to  cool 
their  heels,  while  waiting  for  morning  prayers. 
The  president  had  an  interview  with  Mr. 
Fitch  upon  the  subject,  and  Mr.  Fitch  re 
ferred  the  president  to  Brinton  Eliot.  There 
fore,  about  noon,  Brinton  received  a  summons 
to  Dr.  Daggett's  study.  He  went  over  to 
College  and  walked  down  the  hall  to  the 
president's  door  —  a  white  door,  like  others 
in  the  building,  but  awe-inspiring  at  times. 

46 


At  the  Sign  of  the  "  Cock  and  Crown  " 

Flipping  some  snuff  off  his  waistcoat,  he 
placed  his  hat  under  his  arm,  and  knocked 
lightly.  The  president  bid  him  enter. 

The  room  was  not  large,  and  the  white 
wainscot  with  its  square  panels  extended 
from  floor  to  ceiling.  Between  the  windows, 
on  one  side,  stood  a  small  mahogany  cup 
board,  and  opposite  to  it  a  heavy  bookcase 
of  the  same  wood,  flanked  by  two  large,  high- 
backed  mahogany  chairs,  while  a  polished 
mahogany  table  was  in  the  centre  of  the 
apartment.  All  of  this  furniture  was  so 
stiff  and  solemn,  so  polished  and  pompous, 
that  Brinton  could  not  help  wondering  what 
would  happen  if  Blumpy,  whom  he  had  seen 
dance  at  Mix's  tavern,  should  come  into 
that  room  and  dance  the  High  Betty  Martin. 
He  was  certain  that  the  mahogany  table 
\vould  rise  in  its  wrath  and  smite  the  offender. 
The  president  was  seated  at  the  table,  on 
which  were  various  papers,  an  ink-horn,  sand 
box,  and  quill-box,  while  behind  him  on  the 
white  mantel  over  the  fireplace,  stood  a  gilt 
clock  and  two  splendid  silver  candlesticks, 
above  which  hung  one  of  Governor  Yale's 
gifts  to  the  college,  the  portrait  of  King 
George  I,  German  by  birth,  and  King  of 
England,  by  the  grace  of  God  and  Parlia 
ment.  The  president,  in  his  long  black 
gown  and  great  white  wig,  was  venerable  and 
imposing,  and  as  he  leaned  slightly  forward, 

47 


Brinton   Eliot 

the  sunlight  which  streamed  between  the  cam 
let  curtains  upon  his  papers,  fell  athwart  him, 
flooding  his  powdered  wig  and  his  clear-cut, 
careworn  features.  His  eyes  showed  that 
he  was  very  weary,  but  the  lines  about  his 
mouth  made  it  equally  clear  that  he  would 
stick  at  his  appointed  task,  no  matter  how 
great  his  fatigue  might  be. 

"  Eliot,"  said  he,  slowly,  "  why  did  you  ring 
the  bell  at  half-past  five  this  morning? " 

"  To  prevent  Nathan  Hale  from  ringing  it 
at  six  o'clock,  sir." 

"  Are  you  serving  as  butler's  waiter?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Has  Hale  served  ?  " 

"  Not  yet,  sir." 

"He  wishes  to  serve,  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  His  zeal  is  commendable." 

"  Gad  !  sir,  he's  most  anxious  to  serve." 

"What!  sir?" 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir.  I  meant  that  he 
was  very  anxious  indeed  to  serve." 

"  You  should  say  what  you  mean." 

"  I  generally  do,  sir." 

"  Do  you,  indeed  ?  I  hope  this  matter  will 
be  arranged  so  that  a  mistake  like  that  of 
this  morning  will  not  occur  again." 

"  I  hope  so,  sir." 

"  I  shall  fine  you  twopence  halfpenny." 

"Yes,  sir." 

48 


At  the  Sign  of  the  "  Cock  and  Crown  " 

"  That  is  sufficient." 

Brinton  bowed  and  took  his  leave.  He 
was  much  pleased  at  the  result  of  the  inter 
view  on  Nathan's  account,  for  Nathan's  zeal 
had  been  commended,  and  Nathan's  welfare 
was  very  dear  to  Brinton's  heart. 

That  afternoon  he  and  Ben  and  Joshua 
Lamb  hired  a  boat  and  sailed  to  Morris  Cove, 
where  they  had  some  excellent  oysters  and 
cider,  and  as  Joshua  had  a  pack  of  Great 
Mogul  playing-cards  they  put  in  an  hour 
pleasantly  enough.  During  the  game  Brin 
ton  gave  them  an  account  of  his  interview 
with  the  president. 

"  Did  he  talk  human  ?  "  inquired  Joshua. 

"  No,"  said  Brinton,  "  I  can't  say  that  he 
talked  exactly  human,  but  somehow  he 
looked  more  human  than  usual.  Do  you 
know,  I  think  that  if  Prex  had  been  brought 
up  in  New  York,  and  been  taught  to  dance 
the  Rolling  Hornpipe  when  he  was  a  boy, 
he  would  have  been  a  first-rate  fellow." 

"He  never  was  a  boy!"  said  Joshua,  em 
phatically.  "  Bet  you  ten  shillings  that  when 
he  was  born  he  knew  Watts's  *  Divine  Songs 
for  Children  '  by  heart." 

At  this  statement  Ben  and  Brinton 
roared. 

When  they  came  back  to  supper  they 
found  every  one  talking  about  a  wonderful 
leap  which  Nathan  had  made  on  the  Green. 
E  49 


Brinton  Eliot 

They  all  went  to  see  it,  and  it  was  afterward 
marked  out  and  shown  with  pride  for  years. 
Joshua  Lamb  was  always  ready  for  anything, 
and  he  it  was  who  took  Ben  and  Brinton  two 
days  later,  to  Mix's  tavern,  where  a  Barbary 
lion,  making  the  round  of  the  colonies  on  a 
cart  drawn  by  four  oxen,  was  on  exhibition, 
and  for  the  privilege  of  seeing  which  they 
paid  ninepence.  They  had  a  game  of  nine 
pins  afterward  in  the  tavern  yard  and  nar 
rowly  escaped  being  caught  by  Tutor  Joseph 
Buckminster  on  the  way  home  —  all  of  which 
was  very  exciting  and  enjoyable.  Thus  the 
bright  October  days  passed  pleasantly,  and 
the  leaves  changed  from  green  to  gold,  and 
gold  to  crimson,  and  crimson  to  brown, 
and  fell,  fluttering  softly,  to  make  a  carpet 
for  the  winter  snows. 

One  afternoon,  early  in  November,  Brin 
ton  was  alone  in  his  room,  on  the  third  floor 
of  Connecticut  Hall.  He  had  been  riding 
with  Nathan,  and  his  sherry-vallies,  spattered 
with  mud,  hung  over  the  back  of  a  chair. 
Nathan  had  gone  to  his  chamber,  across  the 
hall,  to  work  on  the  paper  he  was  preparing 
to  read  at  the  coming  meeting  of  Linonia, 
and  Ben  was  out  on  a  squirrel  hunt  with 
Royal  Flint.  Brinton  had  moved  his  small 
square  table  in  front  of  the  window,  through 
which  he  could  look  across  the  college  yard 
to  the  Green,  and  sat  in  a  three-cornered 

5° 


At  the  Sign  of  the  "Cock  and  Crown5' 

chair  covered  with  red  camlet,  resting  his 
elbows  on  the  table  and  supporting  his  head 
in  his  hands  as  he  perused  Ward's  "  Geom 
etry."  A  brass  candlestick  and  snuffer  were 
on  the  table,  while  the  floor  about  him  was 
strewn  with  Lowth's  "  English  Grammar," 
Hammond's  "  Algebra,"  a  copy  of  "  Horace," 
and  the  inevitable  Watts's  "  Logic,"  which 
he  had  shoved  aside  to  make  room  for  his 
elbows.  From  time  to  time  he  glanced  at 
the  clock,  standing  among  blue  flip-mugs 
and  bright  pewter  porringers  on  the  top  of  a 
handsome  cupboard  in  the  corner,  or,  looking 
out  of  the  window,  watched  the  Sophomores, 
who  were  playing  football  on  the  Green. 
They  ran  about  in  their  shirt  sleeves,  bright 
waistcoats,  and  knee-breeches,  kicking  the 
ball  to  one  another  in  a  careless,  happy-go- 
lucky  way ;  and  when  it  chanced  to  go  too 
far  to  be  conveniently  picked  up,  a  couple  of 
obedient  Freshmen,  who  were  stationed  near 
the  brick  meeting-house,  brought  it  back  to 
their  superiors.  Brinton  had  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  Ward's  "  Geometry "  was 
very  dull  indeed,  when  he  heard  a  racket  on 
the  stairs,  and  a  well-known  voice  singing 
gayly:  — 

"  Lucy  Locket  lost  her  pocket. 
Lydia  Fisher  found  it. 
Not  a  bit  of  money  in  it ; 
Only  binding  round  it." 

51 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  It's  Joshua,"  said  Brinton ;  and  it  most 
certainly  was.  He  burst  into  the  room,  yell 
ing  "  Only  binding  round  it ! "  and  then 
stopped  short.  "  Gad  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Are 
you  studying?  That's  odd!  You're  too 
damnably  wise  now.  I'll  tell  you  what  it 
is :  there's  a  *  Pig  of  Knowledge '  showing 
down  at  the  '  Cock  and  Crown,'  and  they  say 
he  lights  lamps,  spells,  reads  print,  tells  the 
time  of  day,  does  sums  in  arithmetic,  fires  a 
cannon,  picks  a  card  in  a  pack,  and  jumps 
through  a  hoop,  all  for  two  shillings !  Come 
on!" 

This  proved  too  much  for  Brinton,  and  he 
ran  across  the  hall  to  fetch  Nathan;  but 
Nathan,  absorbed  in  his  paper  for  Linonia, 
refused  to  budge.  "  Well,  '  Mutton,'  "  said 
Brinton,  with  a  merry  twinkle  in  his  eyes, 
"  here  is  one  '  Pig  of  Knowledge.'  Let's  go 
and  see  the  other."  And  with  that  he  started 
with  Joshua  for  the  "  Cock  and  Crown."  As 
they  crossed  the  Green  the  bell  of  the  brick 
meeting-house  began  to  toll  solemnly. 

"  What's  up  now,  I  wonder  ?  "  said  Brinton, 
glancing  toward  the  steeple. 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Joshua.  "May  be 
the  king  is  dead." 

"  It's  more  likely  he's  very  much  alive," 
said  Brinton.  "  The  bells  usually  ring  when 
he's  lively.  I  wonder  how  it  feels  to  be 
king.  Imagine  getting  up  in  the  morn- 

52 


At  the  Sign  of  the  "  Cock  and  Crown" 

ing  at  Windsor,  knowing  that  you  are  going 
to  do  something  that  will  set  the  bells  ringing 
from  Boston  to  Philadelphia." 

"  If  I  was  king,"  said  Joshua,  thoughtfully, 
"  I'd  make  laws." 

"  What  laws  ?  "  inquired  Brinton. 

"  Well,  for  one  thing,  I'd  make  a  law  that 
every  college  in  the  colonies  should  have 
peach  brandy  for  supper ;  it's  a  good  drink. 
I'd  have  a  pipe  of  Madeira  every  day  myself ; 
it's  frightfully  expensive ;  and  then  I'd  take 
all  my  friends  to  Windsor,  —  I  suppose  that's 
where  the  king  lives,  —  and  we'd  have  some 
good  horse  races,  and  play  quadrille  and 
ombre,  and  have  plenty  of  flip  and  toddy. 
It  would  not  be  slow." 

"  Gad !  "  said  Brinton,  laughing,  "  what 
would  become  of  the  colonies  ?  " 

"  I  shouldn't  bother  my  head  about  them 
at  all,"  said  Joshua.  "  They'd  get  on  all 
right.  They  always  do  get  on  all  right 
except  when  the  king  meddles." 

"  God  save  the  King,  *  Mutton  ! '  "  cried 
Brinton,  merrily,  "for  if  you  were  king  it 
would  be,  '  God  save  the  Kingdom ! ' ' 

When  they  came  in  sight  of  the  white 
tavern,  beside  which  a  lofty  elm  stretched  its 
leafless  boughs  above  the  dormer  windows  in 
the  roof,  they  saw  a  crowd  packed  closely 
about  the  porch,  and  thinking  that  the  "  Pig 
of  Knowledge  "  must  be  in  the  midst  of  his 

53 


Brinton  Eliot 

performances,  they  both  started  to  run.  'It 
turned  out  otherwise,  however.  On  the  steps, 
under  the  swinging  tavern-sign,  which  had  a 
red  cock  on  one  side  of  it  and  a  gold  crown 
on  the  other,  stood  Dr.  Jarvis  Patch,  in  a 
pea-green  coat,  nankeen  small-clothes,  and 
leather  sherry-vallies,  the  stiff  eelskin  cue  of 
his  horsehair  riding-wig  sticking  straight  out 
in  the  air  under  his  cocked  hat  as  he  waved 
a  paper  and  gesticulated  violently.  The 
pompous  old  doctor  was  much  excited,  and 
the  men  about  him,  some  in  full-skirted  coats 
and  periwigs,  others  in  leather  aprons  and 
woollen  frieze,  were  not  less  so.  Elias  Tozzer, 
who  had  ridden  from  Norwich,  stood  on  the 
edge  of  the  crowd,  trying  to  hear,  and  at  the 
same  time  holding  fast  to  the  bridle  of  his 
big  brown  Narragansett  pacer,  — a  horse,  by 
the  way,  which  he  was  very  proud  of  and  had 
challenged  the  whole  province  to  match  in  a 
race  for  fifty  pounds,  time  and  place  to  be 
agreed  on  later.  Not  far  from  the  porch  a 
small  black  pig  was  shoving  its  snout  in  the 
sand,  evidently  the  "  Pig  of  Knowledge," 
which  every  one  had  forgotten,  including  its 
owner,  —  a  short  man  with  a  long  nose,  a 
coarse  clout  on  his  head,  and  a  red  coat  with 
rusty  frogs,  —  who  craned  his  neck  in  the 
crowd.  Brinton  and  Joshua,  elbowing  their 
way  forward,  heard  the  words  "  non-importa 
tion  agreement,"  "  New  York  merchants," 

54 


At  the  Sign  of  the  "Cock  and  Crown" 

"orders  to  England,"  "all  sorts  of  merchan 
dise,"  "  revolters  ! " 

"  It's  an  outrage  !  "  cried  Dr.  Jarvis  Patch. 
"  It's  a  damned  outrage ! " 

The  crowd  shouted  approval,  and  the 
worthy  doctor  continued:  — 

"  Why  did  Parliament  repeal  the  Towns- 
hend  acts  ?  —  why  did  they,  I  say  ?  —  but 
to  weaken  the  spirit  of  opposition,  and  make 
the  weak  knees  wobble.  Ten  shillings,  North 
counted  on  that!  Ten  shillings,  he  counted 
on  it !  And  now  the  New  York  merchants 
have  done  it,  —  overthrown  the  policy,  — 
smashed  the  non-importation  agreement ! 
Zounds !  'twas  what  we  relied  on  to  force 
the  repeal  of  the  Tea  Act." 

Brinton  became  interested,  and  approach 
ing  the  irate  doctor,  asked  to  see  the  news 
paper  which  he  held  in  his  hand.  "  Yes,  sir," 
cried  Patch,  handing  him  the  Post-boy,  "  you 
can  read  for  yourself.  There's  their  letter, 
and  there's  their  names.  Damn  'em ! " 
Glancing  hastily  over  the  letter  of  the  New 
York  merchants,  Brinton  looked  at  the  list 
of  names,  and  saw  in  rough  black  type  — 
William  Eliot.  It  was  something  of  a 
shock  to  find  his  father's  name  affixed  to  a 
document  which  he  had  just  heard  so  roundly 
denounced ;  and  he  began  to  read  the  letter 
of  the  merchants.  Joshua  came  up,  looked 
over  his  shoulder,  and  asked  what  it  was  all 

55 


Brinton  Eliot 

about.     "  I  don't  know,"  said  Brinton.     "  I'm 
trying  to  find  out." 

The  landlord,  Mr.  Jonathan  Oakes,  came 
out  of  the  tavern  just  then,  in  company  with 
a  handsome,  well-built  man,  about  thirty 
years  of  age,  whose  carefully  powdered  hair 
was  tied  behind  with  a  black  ribbon,  whose 
black  beaver  was  ornamented  with  a  button 
of  silver  lace,  and  who  wore  over  his  claret- 
colored  coat,  green  satin  waistcoat,  and  dark 
knee-breeches,  a  splendid  white  corduroy  sur- 
tout  trimmed  with  fur  frogs. 

"  The  merchants  of  New  York  had  better 
send  us  their  old  liberty-pole,"  he  said  wrath- 
fully  to  Oakes.  "  'Tis  clear  they  have  no 
further  use  for  it." 

"  Quite  true,  Mr.  Arnold,"  cried  Dr.  Patch. 
"  They're  revolters !  " 

"  They're  a  lot  of  damned  traitors ! "  ex 
claimed  Arnold,  impulsively. 

This  was  more  than  Brinton  could  stand. 
He  dropped  the  Post  -boy,  and  stepped 
toward  the  man  who  had  just  spoken. 

"  My  father  is  a  New  York  merchant,"  he 
said  hotly.  "  He  signed  that  letter.  How 
dare  you  call  him  a  traitor?  Who  are  you?" 

Arnold,  somewhat  surprised,  looked  Brin 
ton  over  from  crown  to  heel. 

"  My  name  is  Benedict  Arnold,"  he  said 
haughtily.  "  You're  a  student  at  the  college, 
I  take  it  ?  " 

56 


At  the  Sign  of  the  "Cock  and  Crown" 

"  I  am.     My  name  is  Brinton  Eliot." 

"  Well,  young  man,  I  don't  know  you  or 
your  father,  but  I  say  that  if  your  father 
signed  that  letter,  he's  a  traitor." 

"And  I  say  you're  a  liar!"  cried  Brinton, 
flushed  with  anger. 

Arnold  started  as  though  he  had  received 
a  blow,  and  for  an  instant  the  man  and  the 
youth  faced  one  another  with  flashing  eyes. 
How  the  affair  might  have  ended  no  one  can 
say,  for  at  that  moment  the  crowd  scattered, 
the  big  yellow  Providence  coach  came  rattling 
up,  stout  Billy  Potter  on  the  box,  the  black 
wheelers  trotting  smartly,  the  bay  leaders  gal 
loping,  and  pulled  up  with  a  magnificent 
flourish  before  the  u  Cock  and  Crown."  Jona 
than  Oakes  rushed  to  the  coach  door ;  a  lady 
and  two  young  girls  alighted ;  Brinton  heard 
a  woman  call  his  name,  and  turned  to  see  his 
aunt,  Mrs.  Chauncey  Winthrop,  his  cousin, 
Mistress  Margaret  Winthrop,  and  Mistress 
Betty  Allen,  of  Philadelphia. 


57 


CHAPTER  V 

CERTAIN  PERSONS  BECOME  BETTER  ACQUAINTED 

BRINTON  was  much  surprised,  for  he  had 
no  idea  that  his  aunt  was  in  New  England. 
"  Lud!  "  she  exclaimed,  "  how  you  have  grown ! 
I've  not  seen  you  for  two  years.  You're  bet 
ter  looking  than  ever  you  were  and  favor  your 
mother,  as  I've  always  maintained,  though 
William  says  you  take  after  him.  Here's 
Polly,  whom  you  may  kiss,  and  Betty  Allen, 
whom  you  may  not."  Brinton  laughed  and 
the  girls  laughed ;  Joshua  was  introduced  at 
once,  and  then  Brinton  was  called  away  im 
mediately  by  his  aunt,  who,  accompanied  by 
the  obsequious  Oakes,  desired  to  inspect  the 
rooms  in  which  she  was  to  lodge.  Mrs. 
Winthrop  was  not  easily  satisfied.  Resplen 
dent  in  her  long  plum-colored,  fur-lined  cloak 
and  hood  and  her  enormous  velvet  muff,  she 
sailed  into  the  bedroom,  with  her  head  in  the 
air,  announcing  that  she  smelled  paint.  The 
beds  were  declared  too  hard,  the  harrateen 
hangings  not  sufficiently  clean,  and  the  cam 
let  coverlets  too  thin.  She  rated  Oakes 
soundly,  demanding  at  once  a  warming-pan, 

58 


Certain  Persons  become  better  Acquainted 

extra  brass  candlesticks,  a  second  looking- 
glass,  and  two  chintz  quilts.  She  was  a  good 
soul,  but  that  was  her  way. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  she,  when  the  landlord  had 
gone  to  procure  the  articles  she  required, 
"  that  you're  surprised  to  see  us." 

"  Indeed  I  am,"  answered  Brinton. 

"  We've  been  three  weeks  in  Providence 
with  the  Josselyns,  and  I  promised  your 
father  to  stop  here  on  my  way  back  to  see 
you.  He's  never  been  here,  you  know,  so  I 
want  to  see  everything.  Lud  !  to  think  that 
I  should  find  you  at  the  ordinary !  And 
what  were  you  doing  here,  pray  ?  And  who 
was  the  man  in  the  wrhite  coat  at  whom  you 
were  glaring  ? " 

"  Benedict  Arnold,"  answered  Brinton.  "  I 
don't  know  him.  We  got  in  a  row  about 
politics." 

"  Politics !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Winthrop. 
"  At  your  age  ?  Fudge  !  Now  you  and 
your  friend  —  what  is  his  name?" 

"  Joshua  Lamb." 

"  He's  eminently  proper,  I  presume  ?  " 

"  Oh,  quite  so.  He  belongs  to  the  Lambs 
of  Lancaster." 

"  Well,  you  must  both  take  supper  with 
us.  To-morrow  we'll  see  everything.  The 
girls  have  done  nothing  but  talk  of  it  all  the 
way  from  Providence.  Don't  you  think  Polly 
has  grown  ?  " 

59 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  Indeed  I  do,"  said  Brinton,  "  and  so  has 
Betty." 

"  The  Josselyns  fell  in  love  with  Betty 
when  they  were  in  Philadelphia  last  May," 
continued  Mrs.  Winthrop,  "  and  insisted  that 
she  should  come,  and  Polly  can  no  more  be 
parted  from  her  than  from  her  own  shadow. 
Mrs.  Allen  demurred  at  the  length  of  the 
journey,  but  I  had  my  way." 

"You  usually  do,  Aunt  Elizabeth,"  said 
Brinton,  laughing.  "  If  you  don't  mind,"  he 
added,  "  I  should  like  to  bring  Ben  Tall- 
madge  and  Nathan  Hale  to  supper,  too. 
You  see  I  room  with  Ben,  and  Nathan's  a 
good  friend  of  mine." 

"  Bring  all  your  friends,"  said  Mrs.  Win 
throp.  "  Polly  and  Betty,  I  dare  say,  would 
be  delighted  if  you  should  fetch  fifty.  Lud ! 
I  can't  promise  them  much  in  this  wretched 
ordinary." 

"  Gad  !  "  said  Brinton, "  they'll  think  they're 
getting  a  royal  feed  after  commons." 

Meanwhile,  Joshua  Lamb,  to  whose  lot  it 
fell  to  entertain  two  very  attractive  girls  in 
the  tavern  parlor,  had  been  having  a  most 
delightful  time,  and  when  Brinton  and  his 
aunt  came  into  the  room,  Polly  and  Betty 
announced  that  Mr.  Lamb  had  been  too 
funny  for  anything  and  had  told  them  all 
about  Yale  College,  and  that  they  wanted  to 
see  morning  prayers,  the  buttery,  the  pr&ses, 

60 


Certain  Persons  become  better  Acquainted 

the  "  chamber  of  horrors,"  commons,  Linonia, 
Sammy  Wales,  Mr.  Fitch,  and  Nathan  Hale's 
jump,  and  all  this  with  a  rapidity  that  fairly 
took  away  Mrs.  Winthrop's  breath.  Brinton 
laughed  and  looked  at  Betty  Allen — a 
charming  picture  in  her  crimson  queen's 
bonnet,  trimmed  with  Bath  lace,  and  her 
long  scarlet  artois  with  its  capes,  lapels,  and 
revers.  He  remembered  her  as  a  little  girl 
of  thirteen ;  and  now  she  was  sixteen,  tall  for 
her  age,  with  the  most  beautiful  eyes,  and  a 
figure  that  gave  promise  of  being  as  fine  as 
that  of  her  mother,  Mrs.  Keayne  Allen,  whose 
lawns,  laces,  and  brocades  were  the  envy,  the 
admiration,  and  the  despair  of  more  than  one 
woman  in  Philadelphia.  There  was  small 
chance  for  conversation  now,  however,  for  if 
he  and  Joshua  were  to  find  Ben  and  Nathan, 
secure  permission  from  the  steward  to  be 
absent  from  commons,  make  their  toilets,  and 
return  to  the  "  Cock  and  Crown  "  in  season 
for  supper  they  had  no  time  to  lose. 

"Gad!"  said  Joshua,  as  they  crossed  the 
Green,  "  Mistress  Betty  is  perfect,  and  Mis 
tress  Polly's  perfection." 

"  That's  a  distinction  without  a  difference," 
replied  Brinton,  laughing. 

"  It's  a  good  thing  they  came,"  continued 
Joshua,  "  on  more  accounts  than  one,  for  it's 
my  belief  if  they  hadn't,  you  and  Mr.  Arnold 
would  have  been  at  fisticuffs.  I've  seen  him 

61 


Brinton  Eliot 

before  in  his  shop,  and  he  seemed  mild 
enough,  but  to-day  he  looked  as  that  Bar- 
bary  lion  at  Mix's  did  when  I  poked  him  with 
a  bodkin." 

"  Has  he  a  shop  ?  "  inquired  Brinton. 

"  Yes,"  said  Joshua.  "  Haven't  you  ever 
seen  his  sign  on  Crown  Street  — '  B.  Arnold, 
Druggist '  ?  'Twas  in  his  shop  I  got  the 
'  Fifteen  Comforts  of  Matrimony '  —  that's 
an  amusing  book.  He  has  other  good  books, 
too,  but  I  like  best  '  Tom  Jones  '  and  a  '  Bag 
of  Nuts  Ready  Crack'd.'  Hopestill  Box,  his 
shop-boy,  —  there's  a  lad  that  can  throw  dice  ! 
—  won  six  shillings  from  me  the  last  time. 
He  says  Mr.  Arnold  has  lots  of  money.  He 
has  ships  at  sea.  I'll  bet  he  don't  make  it  all 
from  drugs  in  this  town.  I've  seen  his  wife, 
too.  She  wears  very  genteel  clothes." 

The  supper  at  the  "  Cock  and  Crown  "  was 
a  delightful  affair.  Mrs.  Chauncey  Win- 
throp,  clad  in  a  rich  tobine,  striped  and  flow 
ered,  her  powdered  hair  piled  high  on  her 
aristocratic  head  and  crowned  by  a  cap  of 
lace  with  long  lace  lappets,  did  the  honors, 
and  though  a  meal  that  exhausted  the  re 
sources  of  Mr.  Jonathan  Oakes's  larder  may 
have  been  quite  unsatisfactory  to  her,  it  was 
most  delicious  to  the  college  youths  after  the 
frugal  fare  in  commons.  Between  Brinton 
and  Nathan  sat  Mistress  Betty  Allen,  in  a 
wonderful  yellow  gown,  embroidered  heavily 

62 


Certain  Persons  become  better  Acquainted 

with  glistening  yellow  flowers,  while  Mistress 
Margaret  Winthrop,  in  a  dress  of  gray-violet 
color,  with  black  plumes  in  her  golden  hair, 
had  Joshua  Lamb  at  her  right  hand  and  Ben 
Tallmadge  at  her  left  The  conversation  was 
animated  and  lively  —  so  lively,  in  fact  that 
Brinton  was  unable  to  have  two  words  alone 
with  Betty  during  the  evening,  although  he 
held  her  hand  longer  than  was  absolutely 
necessary  when  he  said  good  night 

It  was  arranged  that  Brinton  and  Ben  Tall 
madge  should  take  them  to  morning  prayers, 
but  Mrs,  Winthrop  had  been  not  a  little  dis 
mayed  when  she  heard  the  hour.  "  Lud  !  " 
she  exclaimed  u  we  must  rise  at  half -past 
five !  **  The  girls,  however,  were  set  on  it, 
and  Betty  said  coaxingly,  "  Dear  Mrs,  Win 
throp,  just  think !  Mr.  Tallmadge  says  it's 
the  only  time  we  can  see  all  the  men  in  Yale 
College  at  once.  Now  if  we  failed  to  go,  we 
might  never  see  lots  of  nice  ones."  "Oh, 
lud ! "  said  Mrs.  Chauncey  Winthrop,  and 
surrendered.  She  did  not  always  have  her 
way  —  with  Betty. 

Therefore,  they  all  went  to  chapel,  where 
they  created  a  sensation  when  they  appeared 
in  the  gallery.  Ben  sat  between  Mrs.  Win 
throp  and  Polly:  and  Brinton,  who  had  Betty 
all  to  himself,  wished  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life  that  morning  prayers  would  never  end. 
She  wore  again  her  long  scarlet  artois^  and 

63 


Brinton  Eliot 

over  her  soft  brown  hair  the  crimson  queen's 
bonnet,  and  leaned  lightly  on  the  white  rail 
of  the  gallery  as  she  looked  down  at  the  men 
below.  Erect,  in  his  black  robe,  President 
Daggett  was  reading  the  Collect,  and  the 
broad  square  ends  of  his  white  cravat  were 
stiffly  starched  and  orthodox. 

"  There's  Josh  —  I  mean  Mr.  Lamb,"  whis 
pered  Betty.  "Isn't  he  funny?  Oh,  and 
there's  Mr.  Nathan  Hale.  He's  most  amaz 
ing  nice.  Every  one  is  fond  of  him,  I  fancy." 

"  I  think  they  are,"  said  Brinton.     "  I  am." 

"  Who  is  that  odd-looking  man,  with  the 
high  forehead  and  the  fluffy  brown  wig  with 
queer  side-curls  ? " 

"  That's  Sammy  Wales." 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  know  about  him.  He  runs 
the  'chamber  of  horrors.'  Do  college  men 
always  stare  like  this?  It's  very  embarrassing. 
Just  look  at  Mr.  Lamb !  He's  whispering  to 
every  one  in  his  pew.  Brinton,  where  do 
you  sit  ? " 

"  Right  down  there  in  the  pew  in  front  of 
Nathan." 

"  Oh,  yes.  And  who  is  the  man  at  the  end 
of  that  pew  ?  I  can  see  by  his  eyes  that  he 
wants  to  look  up  here,  but  he  doesn't  dare." 

"  That's  Ryder  Dohm.  He's  very  clever. 
He  never  squabs." 

"  What  do  you  do  when  you  l  squab  '  ?  " 

"  Well,  sometimes,  you  see,  we  go  to  a  reci- 
64 


Certain  Persons  become  better  Acquainted 

tation,  and  we  really  don't  know  very  much 
about  the  subject,  and  if  we're  called  up,  of 
course  we  have  to  rise,  and  as  we  don't  want 
to  sit  down  at  once,  we  talk  for  a  while." 

"  But  what  do  you  talk  about  ?  " 

"Well,  I  don't  know — nothing  in  par 
ticular.  We  just  talk." 

"  Does  it  count  ?  " 

"  No.  I  am  sorry  to  say  it  does  not.  I  wish 
it  did." 

"  Brinton,  you  had  better  not  whisper  so 
loud.  Mrs.  Winthrop  is  on  nettles  now.  I 
can  see  it.  Look  at  Polly  —  isn't  she  proper ! 
Well,  there  are  so  many  things  that  I  want 
to  find  cut,  that  I  really  can't  help  talking." 

"  Your  bonnet  is  so  big,  Betty,  that  I  can't 
get  near  your  ear,  so  I  have  to  whisper  loud." 

"  Brinton,  if  you  make  me  laugh,  I  shall 
never  forgive  you.  I  suppose  that  old  man 
on  the  platform  is  the  presses.  Mr.  Lamb 
said  he  wasn't  really  human.  He  seems  just 
like  any  other  old  man." 

"  Betty,  you  mustn't  believe  all  that  Joshua 
tells  you,"  said  Brinton,  laughing  softly. 

"  Really  ? "  said  Betty,  giving  him  a  s\vift 
glance.  "  On  which  ear  did  the  presses  box 
you?" 

"  The  left  ear,"  replied  Brinton,  flushing 
and  inwardly  vowing  to  get  even  with  the 
loquacious  Lamb. 

"  Do  the  girls  in  Milford  dance  well  ?  " 
65 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  Not  as  well  as  the  girls  in  Philadelphia." 
Thus  it  continued  throughout  morning 
prayers,  in  a  manner  very  irreverent  but  quite 
delightful.  When  they  came  out  of  chapel 
they  had  to  run  the  gauntlet  of  fifty  or  sixty 
pairs  of  eyes,  which  the  girls  found  a  trying 
ordeal,  and  Betty  declared  it  made  her  feel 
exactly  like  a  wax  figure  in  a  museum.  They 
had  a  jolly  breakfast  later  at  the  "  Cock  and 
Crown,"  after  which  the  tour  of  inspection 
began.  They  went  through  College  Hall, 
inspected  the  commons,  were  shown  the  por 
trait  of  Governor  Yale,  and  the  "  Moor,"  in 
his  red  turban  and  blue  surdan,  whom  Betty 
insisted  on  seeing,  and  who  bowed  very  low, 
displaying  at  the  same  time  his  large  white 
teeth;  and  since  for  the  moment  no  recitation 
was  being  held  there,  they  peeped  into  the 
"chamber  of  horrors,"  at  which  both  girls 
laughed  very  much,  declaring  that  it  was  a 
room  just  like  any  other  room.  They  saw 
the  library,  with  its  four  thousand  volumes, 
its  globes,  astronomical  quadrant,  theodolite, 
and  telescope,  and  there  to  Brinton's  delight 
they  found  Tutor  John  Trumbull  at  work  on 
the  first  part  of  his  poem,  "  The  Progress  of 
Dulness."  Trumbull  was  introduced  and 
entertained  them  delightfully  for  more  than 
half  an  hour. 

"  He's  most  amazing  clever,"  said  Betty,  as 
they  came  down  stairs. 

66 


Certain  Persons  become  better  Acquainted 

"  He's  a  genius,"  said  Brinton,  "  and  what's 
more,  he's  a  first-rate  fellow." 

"  I  like  clever  men,"  said  Betty.  "  Why 
didn't  you  have  him  to  supper?" 

"  I  couldn't  have  every  one,  Betty.  Weren't 
we  clever  enough  for  you  ?  " 

"  Of  course  you  were.  Brinton  Eliot,  how 
you  do  take  me  up !  " 

In  the  yard  they  found  the  Seniors  assem 
bling  for  recitation,  and  Brinton  was  very  glad 
to  have  the  opportunity  of  presenting  Hum 
phreys,  with  whose  intelligence,  grace,  and 
grand  manner  Mrs.  Winthrop  and  the  girls 
were  charmed.  As  soon  as  he  saw  that  Betty 
was  pleased  with  Humphreys,  Brinton  said  a 
few  words  in  a  low  tone  to  his  aunt,  and  then 
invited  Humphreys  to  dine  with  them  at  the 
"  Cock  and  Crown,"  —  an  invitation  which 
Humphreys  accepted  in  the  most  gallant 
way. 

"  He's  our  fashion-plate,  Betty,"  said  Brin 
ton  a  moment  later,  when  the  man  in  question 
had  departed,  "but  he  has  plenty  of  brains. 
He's  a  charming  fellow,  but  he's  a  Senior.  I 
hope  he  won't  think  you're  rather  young." 

"  Brinton  Eliot !  " 

And  with  that  Mistress  Betty  Allen  turned 
on  her  heel  and  walked  directly  over  to  Ben 
Tallmadge.  Then  Mrs.  Winthrop  made 
Brinton  gasp  by  announcing  that  she  wished 
to  meet  President  Daggett.  Brinton  took 

67 


Brinton   Eliot 

Tallmadge  aside.  "  Ben,"  said  he,  "  Aunt 
Elizabeth  is  set  on  seeing  Prex.  I  don't 
want  the  girls  in  there,  for  you  know  how 
we're  supposed  to  knuckle  when  we  talk  to 
Prex,  and  Betty  would  twit  me  about  it.  Take 
them  over  on  the  Green  to  see  Nathan's  leap 
and  keep  'em  busy."  Ben  promised,  and  as 
Betty  was  piqued  at  Brinton,  she  did  not 
demur  at  the  arrangement. 

Brinton  and  Mrs.  Chauncey  Winthrop  reen- 
tered  College  and  walked  down  the  hall  to 
the  white  door,  where  Brinton  knocked  lightly, 
hoping  that  the  president  was  not  there.  The 
president  bid  him  enter.  Brinton  opened  the 
door,  and  Mrs.  Chauncey  Winthrop,  in  her 
rose-colored,  furbelowed  petticoat  and  her 
white  fur-lined  mantua,  sailed  into  Olympus. 

"  Dr-  Daggett,"  said  Brinton,  with  his  hat 
under  his  arm,  "my  aunt,  Mrs.  Winthrop." 
The  president  rose  behind  his  mahogany 
table  and  made  Mrs.  Winthrop  a  very  low 
bow,  to  which  that  lady  responded  with  a 
stately  courtesy.  "  Be  seated,  madam,"  said 
the  president.  "  Eliot,  you  may  take  a  chair." 
Brinton  bowed  and  sat  down.  A  chair  in 
the  presence  of  the  prceses! 

"  I  am  much  pleased  with  the  college,  Dr. 
Daggett,"  said  Mrs.  Winthrop,  settling  her 
self,  "  for  I  conceive  it  to  be  quite  superior  to 
the  one  in  New  Jersey.  I  trust  my  nephew 
deports  himself  in  a  fitting  manner." 

68 


Certain  Persons  become  better  Acquainted 

"  Your  nephew,  madam,"  replied  the  presi 
dent,  "  does  not  make  that  progress  in  sound 
learning  which  I  could  wish  for,  and  I  regret 
to  say  that  he  has  of  late  fallen  into  evil  ways 
tending  to  the  danger  of  his  soul,  the  great 
grief  of  his  parents,  and  the  dishonor  of  God." 

"  Lackaday !  "  cried  Mrs.  Winthrop,  ner 
vously,  "  what  has  he  done,  Dr.  Daggett  ?  " 

"  He  has,  madam,  indulged  in  the  sin  of 
dancing,  a  worldly  vice  which  we  consider 
most  pernicious." 

"  Oh,  lud  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Chauncey  Win 
throp,  much  relieved. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  madam  ?  " 

"  I  mean  —  well,  really,  Dr.  Daggett,  you 
quite  took  my  breath  away." 

"  I  am  not  surprised  that  you  were  shocked, 
madam,  and  properly  so.  His  conduct  has 
not  gone  unpunished.  He  was  publicly  ad 
monished  and  boxed  in  chapel." 

"  Oh,  lud !  "  said  Mrs.  Winthrop,  faintly. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  madam  ?  " 

"At  least,  Dr.  Daggett,"  said  Mrs.  Win 
throp,  recovering  herself,  "  I  trust  my  nephew 
has  made  some  progress  in  belles-lettres." 

"  Belles-lettres,  madam,"  replied  the  presi 
dent,  gravely,  "  we  consider  food  fit  only  for 
the  minds  of  the  frivolous.  Sound  learning, 
in  which  we  desire  the  youths  committed  to 
our  charge  to  become  proficient,  is  summed 
up  in  the  Greek  Testament,  Vincent's  '  Cate- 

69 


Brinton  Eliot 

chism,'  Martin's  *  Philosophic  Grammar,' 
Locke's  '  Human  Understanding,'  Wollas- 
ton's  '  Religion  of  Nature  Delineated,'  and 
Wollebius's  '  Amesii  Medulla.'" 

Mrs.  Chauncey  Winthrop  gasped,  and 
making  the  president  a  magnificent  courtesy, 
said  faintly,  "  Good  morning,  Dr.  Daggett." 

"  Good  morning,  madam." 

And  Mrs.  Winthrop,  in  her  rose-colored, 
furbelowed  petticoat  and  her  white  fur-lined 
mantua,  sailed  out  of  Olympus.  Brinton, 
who  had  been  sweating  with  anxiety,  bowed 
profoundly  to  the  president  and  followed  his 
aunt  down  the  hall.  "  Lud  !  "  she  exclaimed, 
"  'tis  as  stiff  as  the  Court  of  St.  James !  " 

They  found  Ben  Tallmadge  and  the  girls 
at  Connecticut  Hall,  and  Brinton  took  them 
all  to  see  the  buttery,  where  Mr.  Fitch  made 
himself  very  agreeable  and  prepared  for  them 
a  delightful  puneh,  after  which  they  went  up 
to  Brinton's  rooms. 

"We  didn't  fix  up  at  all,"  said  Brinton, 
throwing  open  the  door ;  "  only  I  made 
Ben  put  some  of  his  clothes  away.  He 
usually  has  them  lying  round.  I  thought 
you'd  like  to  see  just  how  we  live."  Every 
one  laughed,  and  Mrs.  Winthrop  settled  her 
self  in  a  camlet-covered  chair,  declaring  that 
she,  for  one,  was  ready  to  rest.  While  the 
girls  admired  the  pink  and  white  wall-paper, 
covered  with  miniature  horsemen  pursuing 

70 


Certain  Persons  become  better  Acquainted 

an  imaginary  fox,  looked  at  the  curious  prints 
on  the  walls,  —  one  of  the  college  as  it  was 
in  1720,  with  a  few  pompous  gentlemen  in 
periwigs  strutting  in  the  foreground ;  one  of 
Addison  entertaining  his  friends  at  "  But 
ton's  " ;  and  another  representing  the  Lord 
Mayor's  Show  in  London  in  the  time  of 
Charles  II,  —  and  peeped  into  the  little  bed 
rooms,  Ben  placed  a  small  round  table,  and 
brought  some  fine  apple-tarts  and  quince- 
tarts  from  the  cupboard,  while  Brinton  put 
a  fresh  log  on  the  brass  fire-dogs,  blew  the 
fire,  and  hung  a  small  kettle  on  the  pot-hook. 
"  I  hope  you  don't  drink  tea,"  said  Mrs.  Win- 
throp.  "  Tis  most  unpatriotic."  "  Oh,  no," 
said  Brinton.  "  We  use  this  to  heat  water." 
Ben  arranged  the  blue  flip-mugs  and  the 
best  china;  Brinton  made  them  some  excel 
lent  flip ;  the  wood  fire  burned  merrily ;  Ben 
and  Margaret  were  very  jolly ;  Mrs.  Winthrop 
gave  an  account  of  her  interview  with  Dr. 
Daggett  in  the  most  amusing  manner ;  while 
Betty,  who  had  been  as  cool  as  the  chill 
November  air  out  of  doors,  thawed  and  sat 
by  Brinton,  talking  to  him  sweetly  for  twenty 
minutes,  and  at  the  end  of  that  time  Brinton 
was  so  absorbed  in  her  that  he  failed  to  hear 
a  knock  at  the  door.  "  Come  in ! "  called 
Ben.  The  door  opened,  and  on  the  threshold, 
in  his  white  corduroy  surtout  and  silver-laced 
black  beaver,  stood  Mr.  Benedict  Arnold. 

71 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  he,  somewhat 
surprised  at  seeing  the  ladies,  and  doffing  his 
cocked  hat  "  Mr.  Eliot,  may  I  have  a  word 
with  you  ? " 

Brinton  was  much  surprised.  He  looked 
at  Arnold  in  a  frigid  manner,  rose,  went  out 
into  the  hall,  and  closed  the  door. 

"  I  must  apologize,  Mr.  Eliot,"  said  Arnold, 
"for  what  occurred  yesterday.  I  spoke  too 
quickly.  But  you  see,  I've  been  much  exer 
cised  at  the  turn  affairs  have  taken  in  the 
country  during  the  past  three  years.  Politics, 
you  know,  sometimes  makes  men  knaves. 
I  see  now  that  I  insulted  your  father." 

"  I  accept  the  apology,"  said  Brinton,  pleas 
antly.  "  I  think  I  should  apologize,  too." 

"  No,  no.  You  were  quite  right.  In  your 
place  I  should  have  said  the  same." 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  have  you  meet  my 
aunt." 

"  I  cannot  well  refuse  you." 

Brinton  opened  the  door  and  presented 
Mr.  Arnold,  who  saluted  the  ladies  in  very 
gallant  fashion.  He  devoted  his  attention  to 
Mrs.  Winthrop,  and  as  he  was  witty  and  well- 
bred,  had  been  several  times  to  England,  to 
the  West  Indies,  and  to  Quebec,  and  passed 
from  one  thing  to  another  lightly,  like  a  man 
of  the  world,  she  found  him  agreeable  enough. 
When  they  started  for  the  "  Cock  and  Crown," 
he  accompanied  them  as  far  as  College  Hall. 

72 


Certain  Persons  become  better  Acquainted 

"  I  trust,  Mr.  Eliot,"  said  he,  at  parting,  "  that 
I  may  have  the  pleasure  of  your  company  to 
sup  some  evening  with  Mrs.  Arnold  and 
myself."  "  I  shall  be  happy  to  come,"  replied 
Brinton.  And  with  a  gallant  bow  to  the 
ladies,  Mr.  Benedict  Arnold  departed. 

During  dinner  at  the  tavern,  every  one  was 
merry  enough,  except  Brinton,  who  had  only 
his  aunt  to  talk  to,  and  who  perceived  from 
the  exertions  that  Mistress  Betty  Allen  was 
making  to  captivate  Humphreys,  and  the 
success  which  attended  her  efforts,  that  if 
his  unfortunate  remark  of  the  morning  was 
forgiven,  it  was  not  forgotten.  Then  the 
red  and  green  New  York  coach,  with  its 
four  white  horses,  and  Tim  Camp  on  the 
box,  a  whip  famous  on  the  post-road,  pulled 
up  before  the  tavern.  There  was  bustle  and 
commotion  enough.  The  tap-room  was  full 
of  people.  Dr.  Jarvis  Patch  was  booked  for 
a  place,  and  so  was  Mr.  Bradford  and  his 
lady,  and  Mr.  Annable.  Mrs.  Chauncey 
Winthrop's  luggage  was  securely  strapped. 
Mrs.  Winthrop  paid  her  score.  Jonathan 
Oakes  humbly  expressed  the  hope  that  his 
house  might  be  honored  in  the  near  future 
by  Mrs.  Winthrop's  presence.  Joshua  and 
Nathan  came  to  say  good-by.  And  amid 
all  this  commotion,  Brinton  did  not  have 
two  words  with  Betty.  She  talked  with 
Humphreys  until  the  last  moment,  and  then 

73 


Brinton  Eliot 

declared  she  couldn't  think  where  she  had 
left  her  cloak,  and  suddenly  remembered  that 
it  must  be  upstairs.  Brinton  offered  to  fetch 
it  for  her,  but  was  told  to  stay  just  where 
he  was.  She  came  down  the  staircase  with 
the  scarlet  artois  over  her  arm,  to  find  Brin 
ton  alone  in  the  hall,  waiting  for  her  at  the 
foot  of  the  stairs,  and  every  one  else  out  at 
the  coach.  Mrs.  Winthrop  and  Miss  Polly 
Winthrop  were  in,  so  was  Dr.  Jarvis  Patch, 
Mr.  Bradford  and  his  lady,  and  Mr.  Annable, 
and  Tim  Camp  was  ready  to  crack  his  whip ; 
but  Mistress  Betty  Allen  was  in  no  hurry 
whatever. 

"Brinton,"  said  she,  "you  may  help  me 
with  my  cloak  if  you  like."  And  she  stood 
there  very  demurely,  while  he  fastened  it 
about  her  shoulders. 

u  Good-by,"  she  said,  holding  out  her 
hand,  and  looking  up  at  him. 

"  Good-by,  Betty,"  he  answered,  taking 
her  hand  firmly. 

"  Yale  is  splendid,  Brinton,  and  you  have 
been  very  good  to  us  all." 

"  Betty,  when  I  said  good-by  to  you 
in  Philadelphia,  I  kissed  you.  Don't  you 
think  —  " 

"  Oh,  that  was  three  years  ago,"  said  Betty, 
laughing.  "  I  was  rather  young  then,  but 
I'm  not  rather  young  now  —  at  least  Mr. 
Humphreys  doesn't  think  so." 

74 


Certain  Persons  become  better  Acquainted 

And  with  this  parting  shot  and  the  most 
captivating  glance  along  with  it,  Mistress 
Betty  Allen  ran  down  the  steps  of  the  "  Cock 
and  Crown  "  and  a  moment  later  was  being  as 
sisted  by  Nathan  Hale  into  the  red  and  green 
coach.  "  Good-by,  Brinton,"  cried  Polly, 
"  it's  been  lovely.  Good-by,  Mr.  Tallmadge." 
"  Good-by,  Polly,"  said  Brinton,  who  had 
reached  the  coach  door.  "Good-by,  Betty. 
Aunt  Elizabeth,  I'm  coming  to  Philadelphia 
soon."  "  Good-by,  Brinton.  Good-by,  Mr. 
Hale.  Good-by,  Mr.  Humphreys.  Good-by, 
Mr.  Lamb.  Good-by,  Mr.  Tallmadge,"  cried 
Betty.  Dr.  Jarvis  Patch  said  something  to 
Mr.  Annable  about  November's  being  a  chilly 
month  for  spooning ;  the  stable-boys  let  go  the 
bridles ;  Tim  Camp  cracked  his  whip ;  the  four 
white  horses  started  briskly  forward,  and  they 
were  off,  the  wheels  of  the  red  and  green  coach 
rolling  rapidly.  Then  five  disconsolate  Yale 
men  went  into  the  tap-room  of  the  "  Cock 
and  Crown,"  and  ordering  flip  and  toddy,  sat 
down  to  talk  it  all  over. 


75 


CHAPTER   VI 

LINONIA 

THE  visit  of  Mistress  Betty  Allen  and  Mis 
tress  Margaret  Winthrop  was  not  soon  for 
gotten  at  Yale,  —  at  least  by  the  occupants  of 
a  certain  room  on  the  third  floor  of  Connecti 
cut  Hall,  —  but  Ben  and  Brinton,  who  had 
cut  all  their  recitations  during  the  day  and 
incurred  numerous  fines  thereby,  felt  in  the 
evening  that  they  must  do  some  extra  work 
to  catch  up.  They  lighted  their  candles  and 
started  in  bravely,  and  for  a  time  there  were 
no  sounds  save  the  wind  shaking  the  shut 
ters,  the  crackling  of  the  fire,  and  the  ticking 
of  the  clock.  Then  Brinton  threw  down  his 
book  in  disgust.  "  Bah !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  to 
pass  from  Betty  to  Ward's  '  Geometry ' !  I 
can't  do  it.  It's  out  of  the  question."  Ben, 
who  for  the  last  half-hour  had  been  holding 
Hammond's  "  Algebra "  and  at  the  same 
time  staring  at  the  print  of  the  Lord  Mayor's 
Show,  quite  agreed  with  him.  "  Go  and 
fetch  Nathan,"  said  Ben,  "and  I'll  make 
some  flip."  Brinton  went  across  the  hall, 
and  Ben,  after  putting  the  flip-dog  in  the  fire, 

76 


Linonia 

filled  a  tankard  two-thirds  full  of  beer, 
sweetened  it  with  sugar,  added  a  liberal  dash 
of  rum,  and  stirred  the  compound  with  the 
red-hot  flip-iron. 

"  He  says  he'll  come  in  about  ten  min 
utes,"  said  Brinton,  coming  back  from  Na 
than's  room.  "  Paddleford  is  in  there,  and 
he  and  Nathan  are  making  out  the  list  of 
Freshmen  for  Linonia." 

"  We  want  Woodbridge,  anyhow,"  said 
Ben. 

"  Yes,"  said  Brinton,  "  he's  the  most  likely 
man  in  that  class,  but  I  can  tell  you  that  if 
we  get  him,  Humphreys  will  be  hopping  mad. 
He's  been  training  Woodbridge  for  Brothers 
ever  since  the  beginning  of  the  term.  He 
makes  him  fag  for  him  all  the  time." 

"  I  suppose  he  will  be  mad,"  replied  Ben. 
"  He's  the  head  and  front  of  Brothers  —  and 
that's  all  right ;  he  founded  it,  and  he's  cer 
tainly  run  it  well.  But  I  don't  see  why  you 
put  an  'if  in  it  about  getting  Woodbridge. 
We're  sure  to  get  him.  It  stands  to  reason 
that  a  society  like  Brothers,  which  has  been 
running  only  two  years,  can't  put  up  a  show 
ing  to  match  Linonia,  which  has  been  run 
ning  seventeen  years.  I'll  bet  you  six 
shillings  that  any  Freshman  who  has  a 
chance  at  Linonia  will  throw  Brothers  over." 

"  Don't  you  be  too  sure,"  said  Brinton. 
"You've  seen  Brothers  founded,  and  you 

77 


Brinton  Eliot 

know  all  about  it,  but  the  Freshmen  don't. 
Of  course  they  know  that  one  is  much  older 
than  the  other,  and  all  that,  but  they  are 
going  to  go  where  they  think  they'll  be 
treated  the  best.  Now  to  them,  Brothers 
in  Unity  means  David  Humphreys,  and  you 
know  that  though  he  makes  them  fag  well 
and  keeps  them  under,  he's  always  very  civil 
to  them.  Look  at  some  of  the  Seniors  we 
have  in  Linonia.  There's  Eleazer  Clang- 
born  —  the  way  he  treats  Freshmen  is  a  dis 
grace  to  the  place !  The  '71  men  in  Linonia 
have  given  us  all  a  black  eye  this  year,  for 
they  have  done  nothing  worth  speaking  of, 
and  they  go  about  cockey  as  hades ;  while, 
on  the  other  hand,  there's  Humphreys,  who, 
as  far  as  personal  influence  goes,  is  the  king 
of  the  college,  and  always  so  damned  civil." 

"  Gad !  "  said  Ben.     "  I  suppose  that's  so." 

"  Of  course  it's  so,"  replied  Brinton,  going 
over  to  the  fireplace  and  taking  his  pipe  off 
the  mantel.  Having  filled  his  pipe,  he  lit  it 
at  a  candle  on  the  table.  "It's  my  belief," 
he  continued,  "that  this  year  Humphreys 
can  pick  his  crowd  in  the  Freshman  class, 
and  have  the  cream  of  the  lot." 

"Oh,  I  don't  think  it  will  be  as  bad  as 
that,  Brinton,"  said  Ben. 

"  If  it  isn't,  it  will  only  be  because  Nathan 
Hale  is  in  Linonia.  Nathan,  if  he  is  only 
a  Sophomore,  has  more  influence  to-day  in 

78 


Linonia 

Yale  than  any  other  man  except  Humphreys, 
in  my  opinion ;  and  when  we're  Seniors,  I 
think  he'll  be  as  big  a  man  as  Humphreys  is 
now.  You  can  bet,  then,  that  no  one  in 
Linonia  will  treat  Freshmen  the  way  that 
Clangborn  and  some  of  the  rest  of  the  '71 
crowd  do  at  present.  They've  certainly 
given  us  all  a  black  eye  this  year.  There 
has  been  too  much  of  this  '  we're  seventeen 
years  old,  and  you're  only  two  years  old  '  busi 
ness,  but  it  won't  work.  Brothers  is  going 
to  pick  and  choose,  and  all  we  get  we'll  run 
for." 

Brinton  knocked  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe, 
and  taking  up  a  blue  flip-mug  filled  it  from 
the  tankard.  Then  Nathan  and  Munson 
Paddleford  came  in.  Nathan  looked  wor 
ried  and  held  a  paper  in  his  hand. 

"  Hello,  Nathan.  Hello,  Munson,"  said 
Ben.  "Have  some  flip." 

They  both  settled  themselves  comfortably, 
and  Ben  filled  their  flip-mugs. 

"We've  made  out  the  list  of  Freshmen  for 
Linonia,"  said  Nathan.  "  It's  not  going  to 
be  so  easy.  Munson  has  had  one  refusal 
already." 

"  Ten  Eyck,"  said  Munson.  "  I  knew  he 
was  sure  either  way,  so  I  sounded  him.  He 
wants  Brothers." 

"  How  about  Woodbridge  ?  "  inquired  Ben. 

"  Woodbridge,"  said  Nathan,  "  is  the  lead- 
79 


Brinton  Eliot 

ing  card.  He  told  me  that  when  he  first 
came  he  was  all  for  Linonia,  but  the  treat 
ment  he  got  from  certain  people  —  I'll  not 
mention  any  names  —  set  him  the  other  way. 
He  likes  Humphreys,  and  he  seems  fond  of 
me  —  I  don't  know  why.  I  can  get  him,  I 
think." 

Brinton  stood  before  the  fire,  in  his  green 
dressing-gown  of  flowered  damask,  twirling 
his  pipe  in  his  fingers. 

"  Who  are  the  others,  Nathan  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Well,  there's  Rundle  and  Mix." 

"  I  wouldn't  give  a  shilling  for  either  of 
them,"  said  Brinton. 

"  There's  Tiffany  Taylor." 

"  He  is  much  better." 

"  And  Champion." 

"  Only  so  so." 

"  Posey." 

"  He's  passable.  What  about  Rice  and 
Walker?" 

"  They  want  Brothers." 

"  What  about  Archer  ?  " 

"  He  wants  Brothers." 

"  Well,  how  about  Benedict  ?  " 

"  I  have  him  down.     We  can  get  him." 

"  That's  something,"  said  Brinton.  "  The 
best  we  have,  I  take  it,  not  counting  Wood- 
bridge,  are  Tiffany  Taylor  and  Benedict;  and 
Woodbridge  is  worth  two  Tiffany  Taylors 
and  three  Benedicts." 

80 


Linonia 

"  I  should  think  he  was,"  said  Ben.  "  Na 
than,  you  must  get  Woodbridge.  I  am  sure 
you  can  do  it." 

"  I  think  I  can,  Ben,"  said  Nathan.  "  I'll 
try  hard  enough." 

"  Gad  !  "  exclaimed  Munson,  gleefully,  "  if 
we  do  get  him,  won't  Humphreys  cuss! " 

Brinton  lighted  his  pipe  again  at  the 
candle. 

"  Munson,"  said  he,  laughing,  "  that's  the 
difficulty.  Humphreys  will  cuss,  and  I  don't 
approve  of  swearing.  But  seriously,  Nathan," 
he  continued,  "  I  \vant  to  say  a  word  about 
Woodbridge.  He's,  as  you  say,  the  leading 
card,  and  more  than  that,  I  happen  to  know 
that  we  can  get  him.  From  what  he  said  to 
me,  I  think  there's  no  question  if  you  ask  him. 
But  there's  another  side  to  the  matter.  The 
fact  that  Linonia  has  fallen  behind  this  year 
isn't  our  fault.  We've  done  wrhat  we  could, 
but  we're  not  Seniors.  We  must  try  to  right 
things  next  year  and  the  year  after.  Now 
Dave  Humphreys  has  done  Yale  lots  of  good. 
You  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  the  reason  we 
are  talking  about  these  Freshmen  to-night 
is  because  Humphreys  founded  Brothers  and 
forced  Linonia  to  take  in  Freshmen.  If  the 
men  who  ran  things  four  years  ago  had  had 
sense  enough  to  take  Humphreys  in,  in  his 
Freshman  year,  there  wouldn't  have  been  any 
Brothers.  However,  Brothers  has  done  the 

81 


Brinton  Eliot 

college  lots  of  good.  I  think  we  owe  Hum 
phreys  a  great  deal.  Remember  what  we've 
had  to  put  up  with  from  some  of  the  '71  men, 
and  look  at  the  way  Humphreys  has  always 
treated  us.  Why,  only  this  afternoon,  Nathan, 
when  Ben  and  I  were  coming  up  from  the 
'Cock  and  Crown'  with  Humphreys,  we  met 
Thrall  and  Wefers.  You  know  that  as  a 
rule  Thrall  and  Wefers  can't  see  Ben  or 
myself  six  inches  away.  Of  course  they 
stopped  to  talk  to  Humphreys,  and  nothing 
could  have  been  more  damned  civil  than  the 
way  Humphreys  brought  us  into  the  con 
versation.  I  think  we  owe  him  something. 
He's  always  been  civil  to  us,  and  he's  done 
Yale  lots  of  good.  He's  worked  hard  for 
Woodbridge;  and  he's  set  on  getting  Wood- 
bridge  ;  and  I  say  —  give  him  Woodbridge." 

"  Brinton,"  said  Nathan,  "  I  think  you're 
right." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Ben. 

And  the  name  of  Woodbridge  was  scratched 
from  Linonia's  list. 


82 


CHAPTER   VII 

AN    EVENING   WITH    TRUMBULL 

BRINTON  wrote  a  long  letter  to  his  father 
the  next  day  in  regard  to  the  action  of  the 
New  York  merchants  which  he  did  not  fully 
understand.  He  wrote  also  to  Betty  and  to 
his  aunt,  Mrs.  Winthrop.  On  the  following 
Friday  he  received  an  invitation  to  sup  at 
Mr.  Arnold's.  Arnold  was  witty  and  affa 
ble,  politics  was  not  mentioned,  and  when 
the  conversation  had  drifted  in  one  way  and 
another  from  Yale  to  the  West  Indies,  he 
gave  in  an  amusing  manner  an  account  of  a 
duel  he  had  fought  there  with  a  British  sea- 
captain.  Mrs.  Arnold  —  who  had  been  Miss 
Mansfield,  and  was  to  die  five  years  later, 
being  spared  her  husband's  glory  and  his 
infamy  —  wore,  as  Joshua  had  said,  "very 
genteel  clothes,"  and  was  extremely  cordial. 
Brinton  passed  a  pleasant  evening,  and  came 
away  with  the  impression  that  Arnold  was 
well-bred,  but  very  impulsive. 

Ten  days  later  the  Freshmen  were  taken 
into  Brothers  and  Linonia ;  and  while  Broth 
ers  seized  Woodbridge  triumphantly,  Linonia 

83 


Brinton  Eliot 

was  content  with  lesser  lights,  the  best  fish 
in  its  net  being  Benedict  and  Tiffany  Taylor. 
Woodbridge  always  wondered  why  Linonia 
had  dropped  him  so  suddenly,  but  he  never 
knew. 

Then  the  snow  came,  drifting  about  the 
elms,  and  whitening  the  shutters  and  dor 
mers  of  Connecticut  and  College,  and 
through  it  the  small  and  highly-organized 
community  tramped,  in  boots  and  surtouts, 
from  chapel  to  commons,  commons  to  class 
rooms,  and  class-rooms  to  chambers,  with 
remarkable  and  fine-fearing  regularity  It 
was  on  one  of  these  winter  mornings  that  by 
the  merest  chance  an  evening  with  Trumbull 
was  planned  —  Trumbull,  that  youthful  tutor 
of  brilliant  gifts,  aglow  with  enthusiasm  for 
the  poets,  the  essayists,  and  the  satirists  of 
the  Age  of  Anne,  and  who  was  even  then, 
through  the  columns  of  the  New  Haven 
Post-boy,  sending  the  unknown  charm  of 
literary  criticism  and  playful  satire  through 
the  ponderous  erudition,  the  stiffness,  and 
the  provincialism  of  intellectual  New  Eng 
land  —  Trumbull,  that  juvenile  phenomenon 
without  peer,  the  prodigies  of  whose  precoc 
ity  while  yet  in  babyhood,  though  soberly 
recorded  by  persons  with  a  good  reputation 
for  truth-telling,  seem  as  preposterous  as  the 
adventures  of  Aladdin.  That  at  the  age  of 
two  years  he  could  say  by  heart  all  the  verses 

84 


An  Evening  with  Trumbull 

in  his  "  Primer  " ;  that  at  two  and  a  half  he 
learned  to  read ;  that  prior  to  the  age  of  four 
he  had  read  through  the  entire  Bible,  and 
could  repeat  all  of  Watts's  "  Lyrics  "  without 
the  book ;  that  at  the  age  of  four  he  himself 
made  verses  in  the  "Wattsian  manner";  that 
at  the  age  of  five  he  loitered  in  the  study  of 
his  father,  who  was  tutoring  for  Yale  a  cer 
tain  William  Southmayd,  and,  in  the  act  of 
loitering,  overheard  and  learned  one-half  of 
Lilly's  "Latin  Grammar,"  and,  having  poured 
forth  his  flood  of  classic  knowledge,  was 
allowed  to  join  in  the  work,  outstripped  the 
youth  of  eighteen,  and,  at  the  age  of  seven, 
seated  on  the  lap  of  Nathaniel  Emmons,  was 
examined  by  the  tutors  and  admitted  to  Yale 
College,  —  these  are  the  things  we  are  respect 
fully  requested  to  believe.  One  wonders 
what  happened  at  the  age  of  one ;  of  that  we 
have  no  record.  In  spite  of  these  misfor 
tunes —  for  the  prodigies  of  babyhood  would 
seem  to  predict  insanity  or  speedy  death  — 
Trumbull  grew  up  to  be  an  all-round  good 
fellow,  and  taking  Addison  and  Steele  for 
his  models,  wrote  essays  which  abound  in 
fusillades  of  witty  and  stinging  satire. 

As  Eliot,  Lamb,  and  Tallmadge  were  re 
turning  to  Connecticut  Hall  after  reciting  to 
Mr.  Trumbull  in  College,  Ben  remarked  to 
Joshua,  "  *  Mutton,'  I  think  you  squabbed  in 
about  the  worst  fashion  I  ever  heard." 

85 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  Trum  has  taken  your  measure  all  right, 
*  Mutton,'  "  said  Brinton,  laughing.  "  He's 
written  a  poem,  and  from  the  title  I  take  it 
that  it's  a  biography  of  you." 

"  Hum !  "  said  Joshua.    "  What's  it  called  ?  " 

" '  The  Progress  of  Dulness.' " 

Joshua  turned  around,  caught  hold  of  Brin 
ton,  and  pushed  him  over  into  the  snow. 
"  I'll  wash  your  face  ! "  he  cried,  gathering  a 
handful  of  snow.  "  You  squab  as  much  as 
I  do."  For  a  moment  the  two  struggled, 
while  Ben  stood  laughing.  Then  Brinton 
got  on  his  feet,  and  Joshua,  breaking  away, 
ran  into  Connecticut  Hall.  Brinton  sent  a 
snowball  after  him,  which  missed  the  mark 
and  smashed  a  window  in  the  buttery.  When 
they  were  in  their  room  and  Brinton  was 
brushing  the  snow  off  his  clothes,  Ben  said, 
"  I'd  like  to  hear  Trum's  poem.  Have  you 
heard  it?" 

"  No,"  replied  Brinton,  "  I  haven't.  I  tell 
you  what  I'll  do,  I'll  ask  Trum  if  he'll  read 
it  to  us  to-night." 

Thus  the  evening  with  Trumbull  was 
planned,  and  as  Mr.  Trumbull  was  quite 
willing  to  oblige  Brinton,  it  was  successfully 
carried  out.  They  asked  Nathan  to  come, 
and  Joshua  Lamb,  and  Humphreys,  who  had 
literary  tastes  and  was  a  great  friend  of 
Trumbull's,  and  during  the  afternoon  they 
made  several  trips  to  the  buttery,  purchasing 

86 


An  Evening  with  Trumbull 

sugar,  lemons,  walnuts,  tarts,  and  other  things 
from  Mr.  Fitch.  After  supper  Nathan  brought 
an  extra  pair  of  candlesticks  from  his  room, 
Brinton  got  out  the  big  blue  punch-bowl  and 
made  a  splendid  punch,  Ben  hung  the  kettle 
on  the  pot-hook;  and  when  Humphreys  and 
Lamb  arrived,  the  logs  on  the  fire-dogs  were 
blazing  merrily,  the  air  was  scented  with 
tobacco,  and  all  within  was  in  joyous  contrast 
to  the  drifting  snow  and  whistling  wind  with 
out.  Brinton  had  asked  Mr.  Trumbull  to 
bring  the  poem  and  anything  else  he  had  at 
hand,  and  that  gentleman,  when  he  appeared, 
received  a  warm  welcome.  He  was  still  in 
the  twenties,  of  medium  height,  with  keen 
gray  eyes;  and  something  of  a  dandy,  de 
spite  the  fact  that  he  made  fun  of  fops,  for 
the  wrist-ruffles  of  his  mulberry-colored  coat 
nearly  covered  his  hands,  his  white  neck- 
stock  was  carefully  starched,  and  his  bright 
tuly  waistcoat  was  much  embroidered. 

"  This  is  really  delightful,"  said  he,  settling 
himself.  "  Thank  you,  Tallmadge.  That's 
excellent  punch.  What  weather  we  are  hav 
ing!  Thank  you,  Eliot,  I  have  my  pipe  in 
my  surtout.  Oh,  Lamb,  I'm  much  obliged 
to  you  for  fetching  it.  Do  you  get  this 
tobacco  from  Fitch?  It  smells  amazing 
good." 

"  That's  some  my  father  sent  me,"  said 
Brinton.  "  I  think  you'll  find  it  right." 

37 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  Past  question.  Well,  I  could  sit  and  talk 
to  you  all  for  an  hour,  but  I  know  that 
you've  brought  me  here  for  a  certain  pur 
pose,"  he  continued,  taking  some  papers  from 
his  pocket.  "  I  thought  that  before  I  read 
the  poem  you  might  like  to  hear  a  little 
thing  I've  written  for  the  Post-boy? 

"  Very  much,"  said  Brinton. 

"  It's  supposed  to  be  an  advertisement  pre 
pared  for  the  use  of  a  young  lady  after  four 
campaigns  for  the  capture  of  a  husband." 

"  Was  she  successful  ?  "  inquired  Hum 
phreys. 

"She  was  indeed,"  replied  Trumbull,  "and 
she  is  now  retiring  from  business  and  offering 
for  sale  her  stock  in  trade." 

"ADVERTISEMENT. 

TO    BE   SOLD    AT   PUBLIC  VENDUE, 

THE   WHOLE    ESTATE   OF 

ISABELLA   SPRIGHTLY,  TOAST   AND   COQUETTE, 
(NOW   RETIRING    FROM    BUSINESS). 

Imprimis,  all  the  Tools  and  Utensils  necessary  for 
carrying  on  the  Trade,  viz.  Several  bundles  of  Darts  and 
Arrows,  well-pointed  and  capable  of  doing  great  execu 
tion  ;  A  considerable  quantity  of  Patches,  Paint,  Brushes, 
and  Cosmetics,  for  plastering,  painting,  and  whitewashing 
the  face ;  a  complete  set  of  caps,  '  a  la  mode  a  Paris,'  of 
all  sizes,  from  five  to  fifteen  inches  in  height ;  With 
several  dozens  of  Cupids,  very  proper  to  be  stationed  on 
a  ruby  lip,  a  diamond  eye,  or  a  roseate  cheek. 

88 


An  Evening  with  Trumbull 

Item,  she  proposes  by  certain  ceremonies  to  trans 
form  one  of  her  humble  servants  into  an  husband,  and 
keep  him  for  her  own  use,  and  therefore  she  offers  for 
sale,  Florio,  Daphnis,  Cynthio,  and  Cleanthes,  with  several 
others,  whom  she  won  by  a  constant  attendance  on  busi 
ness  during  the  space  of  four  years.  She  can  prove  her 
indisputable  right  thus  to  dispose  of  them,  by  certain 
deeds  of  gifts,  bills  of  sale,  and  attestations,  vulgarly 
called  love-letters,  under  their  own  hands  and  seals. 
They  will  be  offered  very  cheap,  for  they  are  all  of  them 
either  broken-hearted,  consumptive,  or  in  a  dying  condi 
tion.  Nay,  some  of  them  have  been  dead  this  half  year, 
as  they  declare  and  testify  in  the  above-mentioned  writ 
ings.  Their  hearts  will  be  sold  separately." 

"  Gad  !  "  exclaimed  Joshua,  "  that's  grand  ! 
It  beats  the  '  Fifteen  Comforts  of  Matrimony.' " 
At  which  every  one  laughed. 

"  It's  splendid,"  said  Ben.  "  Mr.  Trumbull, 
may  I  refill  your  glass  ?  " 

"  Thank  you.  It  isn't  much,  but  all  that 
we  see  in  print  now  is  so  heavy.  The  Puri 
tans  took  life  too  seriously.  I'm  sure  it  can't 
hurt  us  to  be  playful  at  times.  Do  you  know, 
the  dogmatical  scribblers  have  wearied  me. 
I  purpose  to  parody  them  by  giving  out 
droll  announcements  of  pretended  works. 
What  do  you  think  of  this?" 

"  An  Essay  on  Dancing ;  Proving  from  the  Examples 
of  King  David  and  others  that  it  is  a  most  grievous 
Iniquity,  and  directly  contrary  to  the  Eternal  Fitness  of 
Things.  By  the  Pious  D.  D.  &  Company." 

At  this  every  one  roared.  Mr.  Trumbull 
had  certainly  an  appreciative  audience.  Pipes 

89 


Brinton  Eliot 

and  glasses  were  refilled,  and  then  Trumbull 
began  his  poem.  But  the  "  Progress  of  Dul- 
ness  "  —  of  which  Tom  Brainless,  college  stu 
dent,  pedagogue,  dunce,  and  divine,  is  the  hero 
—  is  far  too  long  to  quote.  The  youths  en 
joyed  it  from  start  to  finish  and  applied  it  at 
once  to  their  own  surroundings.  When 
Trumbull  reached  the  lines, — 

"  Greek  spoils  his  eyes,  the  print's  so  fine, 
Grown  dim  with  study,  or  with  wine ; 
Of  Tully's  Latin  much  afraid, 
Each  page  he  calls  the  doctor's  aid ; 
While  geometry,  with  lines  so  crooked, 
Sprains  all  his  wits  to  overlook  it  —  " 

they  cried  out  that  Tom  was  "  Mutton " 
Lamb,  much  to  that  gentleman's  indignation. 
When  he  touched  the  book-worms,  who 

"  Read  ancient  authors  o'er  in  vain, 
Nor  taste  one  beauty  they  contain, 
And  plodding  on  in  one  dull  tone, 
Gain  ancient  tongues  and  lose  their  own  — " 

there  was  a  general  expression  of  opinion  that 
the  lines  fitted  Ryder  Dohm  like  a  glove. 
They  applauded  loudly  the  epigram, — 

"  Whoe'er  at  college  points  his  sneer, 
Proves  that  himself  learn'd  nothing  there." 

When  the  lines  were  reached  where  the 
dunce-hero  begins  his  career  by  taking  a 
school,  — 

"  Where  throned  aloft  in  elbow  chair, 
With  solemn  face  and  awful  air, 
90 


An   Evening  with  Trumbull 

He  tries  with  ease  and  unconcern, 

To  teach  what  ne'er  himself  could  learn  —  " 

Ben  shouted,  "  Buckminster !  to  the  life!" 
And  when  Trumbull  described  how  Brain 
less  was  given  a  license  to  preach,  — 

"  For  though  his  skull  be  cudgel-proof, 
He's  orthodox  and  that's  enough  —  " 

they  laughed  heartily,  and  Brinton  cried, 
"  Sammy  Wales ! "  They  enjoyed  also 
Trumbull's  portrait  of  Brainless,  the  full- 
fledged  divine,  who 

"  On  Sunday,  in  his  best  array, 
D.eals  out  the  dulness  of  the  day ; 
And  while  above  he  spends  his  breath, 
The  yawning  audience  nod  beneath," 

and  Joshua  Lamb  declared  laughingly  that 
under  similar  circumstances  he  himself  had 
dozed  frequently,  heedless  alike  of  ambrosia 
and  of  Olympian  thunder. 

The  "  Progress  of  Dulness  "  has  for  more 
than  a  century  rested  forgotten  upon  dust- 
covered  shelves,  but  between  its  faded  leaves 
there  lingers  still  the  fragrance  of  its  triumph, 
its  first  and  greatest,  for  no  poem  could  have 
received  a  more  enthusiastic  welcome  than 
that  given  to  Mr.  Trumbull's  first  elaborate 
production  as  a  satirist  by  Tallmadge,  Eliot, 
Humphreys,  Hale,  and  Lamb;  and  when 
some  two  hours  later  Mr.  John  Trumbull,  in 
his  big  gray  surtout,  descended  the  stairs  of 

91 


Brinton  Eliot 

Connecticut  Hall,  the  fumes  of  punch  and  to 
bacco  were  in  his  nostrils,  and  in  his  ears  the 
shouts  of  his  admiring  audience  — "  Good 
night,  Mr.  TrumbulL  You're  a  trump !  " 

Was  Trumbull,  then,  no  better  than  this 
or  that  punster  or  posturemaker  who  under 
the  name  of  wag  or  wit  sits  sneering  at 
God's  militant  creation  ?  Than  he,  Yale  had 
no  abler  tutor,  no  truer-hearted  son.  And 
in  this  "  Progress  of  Dulness "  was  there 
aught  denoting  disloyalty  to  Yale  ?  God 
forbid !  If  so  'twere  better  it,  and  they  who 
laughed  at  it,  had  never  seen  the  light,  nor 
should  men  write  of  it,  nor  read.  But  be 
cause  these  sons  of  Yale  made  merry,  let  no 
outsider  flatter  himself  he  could  do  likewise. 
Not  for  one  moment  would  they  have  suffered 
such  to  satirize  Yale's  prases  and  the  socii. 


92 


CHAPTER  VIII 

IN    AND    OUT    OF    YALE 

THUS  the  winter  passed  in  a  small  and 
highly-organized  community,  self-centred,  self- 
sufficient,  by  whom  the  appointment  of  a 
scholar  of  the  house  by  the  prceses  was  con 
sidered  quite  as  important  as  the  appoint 
ment  of  a  salaried  official  by  the  Crown  in 
Massachusetts,  and  to  whom  success  or  fail 
ure  in  the  "  chamber  of  horrors,"  the  quality 
of  beer  at  dinner,  and  a  statement  of  facts 
between  Brothers  and  Linonia,  were  of  more 
moment  than  the  quarrels  between  the  as 
semblies  of  the  Carolinas  and  His  Britannic 
Majesty.  As  vacation  drew  near,  there  was, 
as  usual,  a  relaxation  of  studious  effort,  and 
a  few  book-worms,  like  Ryder  Dohm,  com 
plained  of  the  noise.  But  if  Dohm  clung 
lovingly  to  the  final  pages  of  Watts's  "  Logic," 
Brinton  Eliot  did  not.  He  had  invited  Tall- 
madge  and  Hale  to  visit  him  in  New  York, 
and  had  taken  pains  to  mention  this  fact  in 
a  letter  to  his  aunt.  Mrs.  Chauncey  Win- 
throp  had  replied  promptly,  inviting  all  three 
to  visit  her  in  Philadelphia.  Therefore,  on 

93 


Brinton  Eliot 

the  1 5th  of  July,  when  the  whip  cracked  and 
the  red  and  green  coach  dashed  away  from  the 
"  Cock  and  Crown,"  three  happy-hearted  Yale 
men  were  among  Tim  Camp's  passengers. 

As  the  golden  sun  sank  slowly  behind  the 
Jersey  hills,  gilding  the  broad  waters  of  the 
Hudson  and  the  gray  walls  of  Fort  George, 
Camp's  dust-covered  coach  rolled  rapidly 
through  the  pleasant  open  country,  down 
Bloomingdale  Road  to  Bowery  Lane.  It 
passed  DePeyster's  manor  and  DeLancey's 
mansion,  and  at  the  turn  from  Bowery  Lane 
to  Broad  Street,  Eliot,  Hale,  and  Tallmadge 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  ships  in  the  East 
River.  Down  Broad  Street  the  coach  came, 
Camp  cracking  his  whip,  the  black  relay  trot 
ting  briskly,  and  pulled  up  with  a  blast  of 
the  horn  at  Fraunces'  tavern.  From  the 
tavern,  the  college  men  walked  down  Pearl 
Street  to  the  Battery,  by  the  Fort,  and  so  to 
Bowling  Green,  where  stood  an  equestrian 
statue  of  His  Britannic  Majesty,  and  from 
where,  highly-varnished  chaises  were  whirl 
ing  the  fashionable  world  up  Broadway  or 
up  Greenwich  Road  to  sup  at  Ranelagh  Gar 
den  or  at  Vauxhall.  The  place  and  the  peo 
ple  surprised  Nathan,  who,  coming  to  Yale 
from  his  quiet  Connecticut  home  in  Coventry, 
had  seen  no  towns  larger  than  Hartford  and 
New  Haven.  For  New  York,  with  twenty 
thousand  inhabitants  bore,  even  then,  the 

94 


In  and  Out  of  Yale 

stamp  of  cosmopolitanism ;  eighteen  lan 
guages  were  spoken  in  its  streets,  and  the 
descendants  of  the  Dutch  burgomasters,  who 
in  Kieft's  days  drank  their  beer  and  ate  their 
hoofd-kaas  in  the  picturesque  old  Stadt  Huys, 
rubbed  elbows  with  Huguenots,  whose  fore 
fathers  had  fled  from  France  in  the  reign  of 
Louis  Quatorze,  and  who  in  their  turn  were 
jostled  by  English  and  Germans,  Spaniards 
and  Walloons. 

Mr.  William  Eliot's  spacious,  brick  man 
sion  stood  at  the  corner  of  Beaver  Street, 
facing  Bowling  Green.  Two  splendid  locust- 
trees  guarded  the  entrance  gate  in  the  low 
brick  wall,  and  trim  hedges  of  box  led  to  the 
stone  steps  and  the  wide  white  door,  with  its 
knocker  of  polished  brass.  Brinton  entered, 
without  ceremony,  led  his  friends  across  the 
hall,  and  in  another  moment  the  youths  were 
in  Mr.  Eliot's  library,  where  they  found  three 
gentlemen.  The  master  of  the  house,  a  fine- 
looking  man  of  fifty,  slightly  corpulent  and 
smartly  dressed  —  in  a  bright  blue  coat,  white 
stock,  white  satin  waistcoat,  black  satin  small 
clothes,  white  silk  stockings,  and  red  morocco 
slippers  —  rose,  embraced  his  son  affection 
ately,  and  gave  a  warm  welcome  to  Hale  and 
Tallmadge,  who  were  then  presented  to  Mr. 
Silas  Deane,  a  merchant  of  Connecticut,  and 
to  Mr.  Robert  Morris,  a  member  of  the 
prosperous  commercial  house  of  Willing  & 

95 


Brinton  Eliot 

Morris  of  Philadelphia.  The  conversation 
turned  to  post-roads,  post-horses,  inns,  beds, 
tavern  cheer,  and  such  matters,  and  contin 
ued,  all  standing,  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 
after  which  Brinton  sent  a  servant  to  Fraun- 
ces'  for  their  luggage,  and  the  young  men 
went  upstairs  to  make  their  toilets  for  supper. 

At  supper  Mr.  Eliot  sat  at  one  end  of  the 
table  with  Robert  Morris  at  his  right  hand 
and  Silas  Deane  at  his  left,  while  Brinton  sat 
at  the  other  end,  with  Nathan  Hale  at  his 
left,  beside  Mr.  Morris,  and  Ben  Tallmadge 
at  his  right,  beside  Mr.  Deane.  There  were 
no  ladies  present,  for  Brinton's  mother  had 
died  twelve  years  before,  his  only  female  rela 
tive  being  his  father's  sister,  Mrs.  Chauncey 
Winthrop.  A  portly  negro,  clad  in  claret- 
colored  livery,  served  in  punctilious  fashion, 
and  the  candles  shed  a  soft  warm  glow  over 
the  sparkling  glass  and  heavy  silver  plate. 
The  three  older  men  did  most  of  the  talking, 
while  the  youths,  who  were  learning  more 
about  the  affairs  of  the  colonies  than  they 
had  previously  known,  listened  intently. 

"  We  don't  regard  the  breaking  of  the  non 
importation  agreement  with  any  favor  up  our 
way,  I  can  tell  you,  Mr.  Eliot,"  remarked 
Mr.  Deane. 

"  You  have  not  felt  the  effects  of  the  agree 
ment  as  we  have,"  said  Mr.  Eliot.  "  We  could 
not  stand  it.  One-tenth  of  all  the  foreign 

96 


In  and  Out  of  Yale 

commerce  of  the  British  colonies  is  centred 
at  this  port." 

"  I  am  warmly  attached  to  the  mother 
country,"  said  Mr.  Morris.  "  You  know  I 
was  born  in  Liverpool." 

"  Were  you,  indeed  ?  " 

"  I  was.  But  I  conceive  the  course  of  the 
Ministry  during  the  past  two  years  to  be  not 
only  most  unfortunate,  but  quite  outrageous. 
I  opposed  the  Stamp  Act  and  signed  the  non 
importation  agreement  when  it  was  plainly 
for  the  interests  of  my  business  to  do  other 
wise.  We  have  all  lost  heavily.  Things 
cannot  go  on  as  they  are." 

"They  cannot,"  said  Mr.  Eliot,  "and  I 
quite  approve  of  your  opinion  of  the  Min 
istry,  but  I  confess  to  being  conservative. 
Each  day  seems  to  bring  us  farther  from  a 
peaceful  solution  of  our  difficulties,  but  I  still 
hope  we  may  reach  such  a  solution,  for  a  war 
with  England  would  mean  an  immediate  col 
lapse  of  business  and  great  money  loss." 

"  You're  a  Tory,  I  take  it,  Mr.  Eliot  ?  "  said 
Silas  Deane. 

"  Say  rather  a  Loyalist,  Mr.  Deane,"  replied 
Mr.  Eliot.  "  I  find  myself  sometimes  tangled 
in  the  ethics  of  honor  in  deciding  between 
my  duty  to  my  country  and  my  duty  to  my 
king,  but  if  the  time  comes  when  I  must 
choose  between  them  once  and  for  all,  I  shall 
serve  my  country  at  all  cost.  In  the  mean- 
H  97 


Brinton  Eliot 

time,  gentlemen,"  he  added,  raising  his  glass 
of  Madeira,  "  I  give  you  —  with  the  hope  that 
God  may  grant  to  him  and  his  ministers  some 
measure  of  common  sense  —  I  give  you  — 
King  George  the  Third  !  " 

They  raised  their  glasses  —  and  drank  for 
the  last  time  —  to  His  Britannic  Majesty. 

The  next  two  days  passed  pleasantly  for 
the  college  men.  They  made  a  tour  of  the 
river  front  on  the  east  side  of  the  city,  where 
from  Whitehall  Slip  to  Peck's  Slip  all  the 
shipping  of  the  port  was  harbored,  because 
the  salt  water  did  not  freeze  in  winter,  and 
where,  for  the  same  reason,  were  the  ship 
builders'  yards  and  the  merchants'  ware 
houses.  They  rummaged  among  the  shops 
in  Queen  Street,  adding  to  their  supply  of 
summer  clothing,  waistcoats  and  neckstocks 
in  the  latest  modes  for  their  campaign  in 
Philadelphia.  They  dined  at  Fraunces' 
tavern  and  drank  flip  in  its  tap-room,  and 
later,  with  hair  carefully  powdered  and  neck- 
stocks  stiffly  starched,  they  whirled  out  the 
fashionable  Bowery  Lane  in  Mr.  Eliot's 
highly-varnished  chaise,  and  turning  into 
Monument  Lane  drove  to  the  gray  obelisk, 
which  stood  in  honor  of  the  hero  of  the 
Plains  of  Abraham.  On  the  return  drive 
Brinton  took  them  to  call  on  Lady  Warren, 
in  her  big  house  in  Greenwich  Village,  where 
much  to  their  annoyance  they  were  offered  a 

98 


In  and  Out  of  Yale 

cup  of  tea,  which  they  courteously  but  firmly 
declined  to  take.  Then  driving  briskly  down 
the  Greenwich  Road,  beside  the  Hudson, 
they  came  home  to  supper,  and  went  after 
ward  to  the  theatre  in  Broadway  to  see 
"  Harlequin  and  Scaramouch."  The  follow 
ing  night  they  supped  at  Ranelagh,  where 
amid  the  lights,  the  music,  and  the  brilliantly 
dressed  throng,  they  sat  in  bright  coats  and 
wonderful  new  waistcoats,  drinking  cherry 
rum,  and  little  dreaming  that  in  that  Rane 
lagh  Garden,  on  a  September  morning  five 
years  later,  Nathan  Hale,  with  his  arms  tied 
behind  his  back  and  escorted  by  a  squad  of 
British  soldiers,  was  to  march  to  death  and 
undying  glory. 

Thus  two  days  passed  pleasantly  and,  on 
Thursday  morning,  leaving  New  York  at 
eleven,  they  crossed  Staten  Island  in  pleas 
ant  weather  and,  taking  coach,  reached 
Amboy  at  five  o'clock  and  Brunswick  at 
half -past  eight,  where  they  put  up  at  Duff's 
tavern,  famous  for  its  spacious  dining  room. 
On  Friday  they  breakfasted  at  seven  and, 
setting  out  a  half-hour  later,  arrived  at 
Princeton  at  noon,  where  they  dined,  and, 
after  a  hurried  glimpse  of  Nassau  Hall, 
pushed  on  to  Trenton,  where  they  spent  the 
night.  On  Saturday  they  dined  at  Bristol, 
and  toward  six  in  the  evening  reached  their 
goal,  the  stately  Philadelphia. 

99 


Brinton  Eliot 

The  coach  set  them  down  at  the  London 
Coffee  House,  at  Front  and  High  Streets, 
and  from  there  they  started  for  Mrs.  Chaun- 
cey  Winthrop's  house,  in  Second  Street.  Dr. 
Cadwalader,  acting  president  of  the  Ameri 
can  Philosophical  Society  during  Mr.  Frank 
lin's  absence  in  England,  passed  them  in  his 
chaise,  as  did  likewise  Mr.  Chew,  driving  in 
his  cream-colored  coach  to  Cliveden.  They 
saw  many  a  broad-brimmed  hat  and  Quaker 
bonnet,  whose  wearers,  at  peace  with  God 
and  man,  were  solid  and  serene,  and  in 
whose  colonial  metropolis  there  was  much 
of  the  architectural  air  of  London,  from 
which  more  than  one  of  their  ancestors  had 
come.  Mrs.  Winthrop's  roomy  brick  house, 
with  white-columned  doors,  fronted  Second 
Street,  and  its  terraced  garden  stretched  to 
Third.  As  they  reached  the  mansion,  Mrs. 
Winthrop's  coach  and  pair  drove  up,  and 
when  they  had  been  admitted,  Brinton  found 
his  aunt  dressed  for  a  ball.  She  gave  them 
a  most  cordial  welcome,  but  seemed  much 
surprised.  "  Lud  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  We 
did  not  expect  you  until  Monday,  and 
neither  did  Polly  and  Betty." 

"  We  were  so  anxious  to  come,  Aunt  Eliza 
beth,"  said  Brinton,  "  that  we  could  not  wait." 

"  Have  you  supped  ?  " 

"  Not  yet." 

"  Where's  your  luggage  ?  " 

100 


In  and  Out  of  Yale 

"  At  the  Coffee  House." 

"  Ods !  We  must  make  haste.  The 
girls  are  at  Cliveden,  but  they're  coming 
with  the  Chews  to  the  assembly.  It  be 
gins  at  six  and  ends  at  twelve.  We  shall 
be  very  late,  but  no  matter.  It's  the  last 
one,  and  they'd  be  in  a  dancing  temper 
to  find  you'd  come,  and  I'd  not  brought 
you.  You  shall  sup  at  once,  and  I'll  send 
for  your  luggage." 

Mrs.  Chauncey  Winthrop  was  a  woman  of 
resources,  and  gave  her  orders  rapidly.  In 
five  minutes  the  youths  were  at  table,  and 
when  Brinton  asked  after  his  uncle,  his  aunt 
informed  him  that  Mr.  Winthrop  had  gone 
to  John  Bartram's  to  see  some  remarkable 
flowers,  for  he  delighted  in  botany,  a  pursuit 
which,  as  Brinton  very  well  knew,  had  few 
charms  for  her.  Then,  with  the  parting  in 
junction  that  when  they  dressed  they  were 
to  make  short  work  of  it,  Mrs.  Winthrop 
announced  that  she  would  employ  the  inter 
val  by  looking  at  the  "  Letters  of  Junius," 
which  every  one  was  talking  about,  and 
which  she,  for  one,  had  not  had  time  to 
read,  and  so  sailed  into  the  drawing-room. 
In  view  of  their  eagerness  for  the  ball,  Mrs. 
Winthrop's  injunction  was  hardly  necessary, 
and  before  she  had  made  much  headway 
with  the  "  Letters  of  Junius,"  the  youths 
came  down  the  \vhite  staircase,  resplendent 

101 


Brinton  Eliot 

in  brilliant  coats  with  lace  wrist-ruffles,  satin 
small-clothes,  silk  stockings,  and  pumps,  and 
the  wonderful  New  York  waistcoats ;  in  short, 
three  as  gallant  young  bucks  as  ever  graced 
a  dancing  assembly  in  the  metropolis  of  the 
colonies.  They  started  at  once  in  Mrs.  Win- 
throp's  coach  for  the  City  Tavern,  which  they 
found  bright  with  lights,  with  many  people 
about  the  door,  while  the  music  of  the  violins 
floated  sweetly  through  the  open  windows  of 
the  ball-room. 

With  its  polished  floor,  its  white  wainscot, 
its  pink,  imported  paper,  and  its  deep  white 
window-seats,  beneath  the  lids  of  which  were 
convenient  receptacles  for  the  women's  wraps, 
the  long,  crowded  ball-room  was  a  fair  sight ; 
and  as  the  youths  followed  Mrs.  Chauncey 
Winthrop,  who,  in  her  white  Persian  gown, 
covered  with  painted  gauze,  advanced  majes 
tically,  carrying  her  painted  fan  and  her  small 
silver  pomander  filled  with  perfumed  spices, 
Brinton  recognized  more  than  one  familiar 
face.  To  him  and  to  Ben  and  Nathan  there 
came  a  fleeting  thought  of  their  last  dance 
on  that  memorable  night  in  Milford,  which 
had  drawn  upon  them,  as  Franklin's  kite 
drew  down  from  heaven,  the  thunderbolts  of 
Jove.  The  contrast  was  great  and  pleasant. 
They  found  Polly,  who  was  much  surprised 
and  delighted  to  see  them,  and  who  looked 
very  pretty  with  her  powdered  hair  and  plum- 

102 


In  and  Out  of  Yale 

colored  lustring.  They  met  Miss  Nancy 
Redman,  Miss  Bond,  Miss  Franks,  and  the 
beautiful  Miss  Auchmuty,  in  a  marvellous 
creation  of  pink  and  silver,  to  whose  charms 
Nathan  promptly  fell  a  victim ;  and  then 
Brinton  saw  Miss  Sally  Chew  and  Miss 
Betty  Allen.  They  were  quite  surrounded 
by  men,  and  Betty,  in  her  blue  satin  gown 
and  white  satin  petticoat,  her  white  slippers 
with  red  heels,  a  band  of  black  velvet  about 
her  throat,  her  powdered  hair,  and  her  brill 
iant  complexion,  all  her  own  —  a  contrast  to 
certain  persons  present,  who  were  rouged  to 
their  eyes  —  was  as  dainty  and  charming  a 
figure  as  Boucher  ever  placed  on  canvas. 
Brinton  made  haste,  especially  since  he  saw 
a  tall  man  in  a  scarlet  coat  with  gold  epau 
lets  heading  hither,  and  the  two  arrived  at 
the  same  moment. 

"  Brinton  !  "  exclaimed  Betty.  "  I  was 
never  more  surprised." 

"  Egad !  Miss  Allen,"  said  the  officer,  el 
bowing  his  way,  "  I  storm  you  as  I  stormed 
Quebec.  There  are  so  many  adorers." 

"  Major  Bingham,  Mr.  Eliot,"  said  Betty, 
flushing  slightly. 

The  British  officer  bowed  stiffly,  and  so 
did  Brinton,  who  wished  that  Major  George 
Bingham  was  in  Canada,  or  Hades. 

"  The  minuet  comes  next,  Betty,"  said 
Brinton,  quickly. 

103 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  I  have  the  honor,  I  believe,"  said  Major 
Bingham. 

"Really?"  said  Betty.  "I  think  you're 
mistaken." 

"  Quite  impossible.  But  I  waive  the  ques 
tion.  Take  us  on  our  merits,  Miss  Allen. 
Which  is  it  to  be,  England  or  the  colonies  ?  " 

"  The  colonies,  major,"  said  Betty,  laugh 
ing.  And  with  that  she  gave  her  hand  to 
Brinton  as  the  music  sounded. 

Ben  danced  with  Miss  Margaret  Winthrop, 
and  Nathan  with  Miss  Auchmuty,  young  Mr. 
Cadwalader  with  Miss  Bond,  and  Miss  Chew 
with  Mr.  Willing,  while  Major  Bingham, 
who  had  intended  to  lead  with  Miss  Allen, 
led  out,  with  not  the  best  grace  in  the  world, 
Miss  Nancy  Redman.  They  danced  the 
stately  minuet,  and  Mrs.  Cadwalader,  who  was 
a  good  judge  of  such  matters,  told  Mrs.  Win 
throp  and  Mrs.  Pemberton  that  in  her  opinion 
Betty  Allen  and  her  partner,  whoever  he  was, 
were  the  most  likely  couple  on  the  floor,  — 
which  was  something  for  her  to  say,  since  her 
own  son  was  dancing,  —  and  that  she  won 
dered  why  Major  Bingham,  who  had  a  reputa 
tion  as  a  ball-room  gallant,  kept  the  step  so 
badly.  After  which  all  three  ladies  had  a 
glass  of  lemon  punch  and  went  into  the  card 
room  where  they  played  ombre  for  an  hour. 
The  ball  progressed  merrily,  though  Brinton 
was  not  a  little  disappointed  to  find  that  he 

104 


In  and  Out  of  Yale 

could  have  only  one  more  dance  with  Betty. 
Since  he  had  come  so  late,  he  should  have 
thought  himself  lucky  to  get  any.  She 
danced  with  Ben,  with  Nathan,  with  Mr. 
Willing,  and  finally  with  Major  Bingham, 
who  then  stepped  in  most  perfect  fashion, 
while  Brinton,  who  was  dancing  with  Miss 
Bond,  appeared  to  that  young  lady  extremely 
absent  minded.  The  ball  closed  with  a 
charming  contra-dance,  the  Orange  Tree, 
which  Brinton  danced  with  Betty  and  there 
fore  found  delightful. 

They  all  rode  home  in  Mrs.  Winthrop's 
roomy  coach,  and  the  girls  talked  enthusiasti 
cally  about  their  visit  to  Yale,  which  they 
had  not  had  time  to  talk  about  before.  Betty 
wanted  to  know  how  that  "  funny  Mr.  Lamb  " 
and  "  splendid  Mr.  Humphreys "  \vere,  and 
wound  up  by  declaring  that  Philadelphia  was 
perfectly  dead  at  that  time  of  year,  and  that  it 
was  too  bad  they  couldn't  come  in  winter. 

"  Why,  Miss  Allen,"  said  Nathan,  "  I  never 
saw  so  large  and  fine  a  ball.  But  then  I  live 
in  a  very  small  town." 

"  It's  amazing  how  well  you  Yale  men 
dance,"  said  Betty.  "  Do  you  learn  at  Mil- 
ford  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Brinton,  laughing.  "  You  see 
we  have  a  dancing-master  in  New  Haven, 
Monsieur  Sainte-Lucie.  He  calls  himself 
the  Comte  de  Sainte-Lucie,  and  I  suppose  he 


Brinton  Eliot 

was  a  count  or  something  or  other  in  his  own 
country.  He's  an  entertaining  fellow.  He 
taught  me  French." 

"  Brinton  !  Can  you  speak  French  ?  "  said 
Betty. 

"  Oui  vraiment,  mademoiselle." 

Both  the  girls  laughed,  and  Mrs.  Winthrop 
remarked  that  she  should  not  think  a  dancing- 
master  could  find  much  to  do  in  New  Haven. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Ben,  "  a  good  many  fellows 
take  lessons,  but  they  don't  say  much  about 
it." 

"  Lud ! "  said  Mrs.  Winthrop,  recalling 
her  Olympian  interview,  "  I'll  wager  they 
don't ! " 

"  You  should  hear  Sainte-Lucie  tell  stories," 
said  Brinton.  "  It's  as  good  as  a  play." 

"  Stories  about  what  ?  "  inquired  Polly. 

"  Oh,  about  the  French  Court.  He  was 
quite  a  personage  over  there,  I  fancy.  He 
knows  King  Louis  XV,  and  has  been  out 
stag  hunting  with  him  more  than  once.  But 
a  few  years  ago  he  got  in  a  row  with  Madame 
de  Pompadour  and  had  to  run  for  his  life." 

"He  must  be  a  brave  man ! "  said  Polly, 
contemptuously. 

"  I  don't  think  he's  a  coward,"  remarked 
Ben.  "  He  had  really  no  show." 

"  No,"  said  Brinton.  "  You  see  Madame 
de  Pompadour  was  practically  Prime  Minis 
ter,  so  Sainte-Lucie  says." 

106 


Iii  and  Out  of  Yale 

"  Like  Lord  North,  I  suppose,"  said  Betty. 
"  A  woman  Prime  Minister !  That's  queer." 

"  But  why  did  he  run  ?  "  inquired  Polly. 

"  Oh,  it's  a  long  story,  Polly,"  said  Brinton. 
"  I'll  tell  you  some  time.  He's  had  no  end 
of  adventures.  You  should  see  him  take 
snuff !  It's  the  most  finished  thing  you  ever 
saw.  We've  all  tried,  but  Humphreys  is  the 
only  one  who  can  get  it  anything  like,  and 
he's  much  behind  Sainte-Lucie.  Here  we 


are." 


Mrs.  Allen  had  agreed  that  Betty  should 
spend  Sunday  with  the  Winthrops,  but  on 
the  following  day  she  was  to  return  to  West- 
wood.  After  breakfast  on  Sunday  morning, 
Mr.  Winthrop  took  them  into  his  garden, 
and,  becoming  absorbed  in  his  hobby,  kept 
them  so  long  that  Mrs.  Winthrop  sent  word 
to  say  they  would  all  be  late  for  service.  So 
they  started,  Ben  walking  with  Polly,  Betty 
with  Brinton  and  Nathan,  in  front  of  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Winthrop,  and  went  to  Christ 
Church  where  the  Rev.  Mr.  Duche  gave 
them  an  excellent  sermon,  of  which,  it  is 
painful  to  state,  Brinton,  who  was  looking  at 
Betty,  remembered  not  a  word.  She  was 
quite  puzzling  that  day.  Before  service  she 
had  talked  to  Nathan  more  than  to  any  one 
else,  but  on  the  way  home  she  talked  to 
Brinton  more  than  to  Nathan.  However, 
immediately  after  dinner  she  walked  for  an 

107 


Brinton  Eliot 

hour  in  the  garden  with  Nathan,  and  seemed 
very  indifferent  about  having  a  third  person. 
Then  she  suddenly  proposed  a  visit  to  Miss 
Auchmuty's,  and  nothing  would  do  but  that 
Ben  and  Polly  should  come  also.  Therefore, 
they  all  walked  up  Chestnut,  passed  the 
State  House,  for  which  the  future  held 

figantic  things,  and  came  to  Seventh  Street, 
n  Miss  Auchmuty's  parlor  they  talked  for  a 
few  minutes  about  the  ball,  and  then  Betty 
suddenly  devoted  herself  to  Ben,  leaving 
Nathan  in  the  hands  of  Miss  Auchmuty,  and 
Brinton  to  talk  to  Polly.  On  the  way  back 
to  the  Winthrops',  she  twitted  Nathan  in  a 
charming  fashion  about  Miss  Auchmuty,  and, 
upon  comparing  notes  later,  Brinton  found 
that  she  had  been  twitting  Nathan  about 
that  young  lady  previously  in  the  garden ; 
hence  the  visit.  She  seemed  determined 
that  no  one  should  monopolize  her  for  any 
length  of  time,  and  she  certainly  kept  them 
all  on  the  go,  and  gave  Brinton  a  whirlwind 
Sunday.  But  after  it  was  all  over,  she  drifted 
round  to  Brinton  as  she  usually  did,  and  when 
the  candles  were  lighted,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
John  Cadwalader  came,  she  said  the  drawing- 
room  was  much  too  warm,  announced  that 
she  was  going  out  on  the  porch,  and  told 
Brinton  that  he  might  come  too,  if  he  liked. 

With  a  slight  sigh  she  settled  herself  in  a 
large  chintz-covered  chair,  while  Brinton  sat 

108 


In  and  Out  of  Yale 

near  her  on  the  steps  that  led  to  the  terraced 
garden.  The  light  from  the  drawing-room 
window  fell  athwart  her  gown  of  flowered 
damask,  but  her  face  was  in  shadow. 

"  Brinton,"  said  she,  "  I  am  really  tired." 

"  I  should  think  you  would  be,  Betty." 

"Do  you  know — Polly  Winthrop  is  in 
love." 

"  Good ! " 

"  You  needn't  take  it  in  that  tone." 

"  I  don't  see  why  not.  Ben  Tallmadge  is 
one  of  the  finest  fellows  in  the  world." 

"  It  isn't  Ben  Tallmadge." 

"  Gad  !  "  said  Brinton.     "  Who  is  it  ?  " 

"  Nathan  Hale." 

Brinton  nearly  fell  off  the  porch. 

"Why,  Betty,"  said  he,  "they  haven't  said 
two  words  to  each  other  all  day ! " 

"  I  know  they  haven't.  I've  managed  that 
they  shouldn't,  until  I'm  most  amazing  tired." 

"  Betty,  I  think  you  must  be  mistaken." 

"  What  have  you  been  looking  at  all  day 
that  you  haven't  seen  ?  " 

"  At  you." 

"  Brinton !  Well,  just  turn  round  and 
look  in  that  window.  There  are  Polly  and 
Nathan  on  the  farther  window-seat,  whisper 
ing  as  hard  as  they  can  —  it's  the  first  chance 
they've  had  —  and  there  is  Ben  trying  to  be 
nice  to  Mrs.  Cadwalader." 

"  Nathan  Hale  is  the  grandest  fellow  that 
109 


Brinton  Eliot 

ever  lived,"  said  Brinton,  "  and  if  he  marries 
Polly  Winthrop,  I'll  be  happy." 

"  He's  amazing  nice,"  said  Betty.  "  But, 
Brinton  —  Mrs.  Winthrop  wants  Polly  to 
marry  young  John  Cadwalader." 

"  The  deuce,  she  does !  " 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  of  all  things  !  " 

"  What  do  you  think  we  better  do  ?  " 

"  Nothing  at  all." 

"Really?" 

"  Of  course.     Nothing  at  all." 

"Oh!" 

Then  Ben  came  out  and  joined  them,  and 
after  the  Cadwaladers  went,  every  one  came 
out,  and  the  rest  of  the  evening  passed 
rapidly. 

On  Monday  they  drove  to  Westwood,  the 
country-seat  of  the  Aliens  on  the  bank  of 
the  Schuylkill,  a  noble  brick  manor-house 
with  a  fine  garden  stretching  to  the  river. 
Cliveden  remains,  but  Westwood,  like  its 
famous  neighbor,  Lansdowne  House,  has 
vanished.  They  found  Miss  Chew  and  the 
elder  Miss  Shippen  with  Mrs.  Keayne  Allen, 
one  of  the  handsomest  women  in  Pennsyl 
vania,  who  wore  a  petticoat  richly  festooned, 
and  on  her  high-dressed,  powdered  head,  a 
lofty  green  silk  calash  which  the  Duchess  of 
Bedford  had  made  the  fashion.  Much  to 
Brinton's  annoyance,  Major  Bingham  was 

no 


In  and  Out  of  Yale 

there  also,  and  after  the  first  ten  minutes,  he 
proceeded  to  monopolize  Miss  Allen  in  the 
most  exasperating  manner.  Mrs.  Winthrop 
and  Mrs.  Allen  seemed  to  have  much  to  say 
to  one  another,  Nathan  was  quite  content  to 
talk  to  Polly,  Ben  found  Miss  Shippen,  whom 
he  had  not  met  before,  extremely  interesting, 
and  that  left  Brinton  with  Miss  Chew  on  his 
hands.  Then  to  make  matters  worse,  Betty 
and  the  major  left  the  veranda  and  went 
down  to  the  garden,  where  Brinton,  who  was 
making  an  effort  to  entertain  Miss  Chew 
and  was  conscious  of  the  fact  that  he  was 
failing  miserably,  could  see  them  walking 
slowly  on  the  terrace,  and  stopping  from  time 
to  time  beside  the  stone  balustrade,  the  ma 
jor's  gold  epaulets  glistening  as  they  passed 
from  shadow  to  sunlight.  Suddenly  Betty 
turned  on  her  heel  and  came  up  to  the 
house,  quite  flushed,  with  Bingham  not  far 
behind. 

"  Sally,"  said  she  to  Miss  Chew,  "  I'm  going 
riding  with  Major  Bingham.  I  want  you  and 
Brinton  Eliot  to  come." 

"  But,  Betty,  I  haven't  my  Joseph." 

"  Ods !  I'll  lend  you  a  Joseph,  and  you 
and  Brinton  can  ride  father's  horses.  You 
simply  must  come.  I  want  to  try  the 
Marquis." 

"  Betty,"  said  Mrs.  Allen,  "  if  you  are  going 
to  ride,  you  better  ride  Lady  Mary." 

in 


Brinton  Eliot 

"No,"  said  Betty.  "I  wish  to  ride  the 
Marquis.  You'll  come,  Brinton,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  said  Brinton,  quite  puzzled  by 
her  manner. 

The  grooms  brought  the  horses;  the  major's 
sorrel  on  which  he  had  ridden  to  Westwood, 
two  handsome  bays  for  Brinton  and  Miss 
Chew,  and  the  Marquis,  a  splendid  black  with 
four  white  feet.  Betty  came  shortly  in  a 
bright  blue  Joseph  and  white  plumed  hat, 
which  suited  her  admirably,  while  Miss  Chew 
was  in  gray.  Bingham  was  booted  and 
spurred,  and  as  Brinton  had  been  furnished 
with  spurs  and  sherry-vallies,  they  were  ready. 
The  major  gave  his  hand  to  Miss  Allen,  Brin 
ton  assisted  Miss  Chew,  and  they  were  off, 
amid  a  chorus  of  good-bys  from  the  veranda, 
the  Marquis  prancing  in  mettlesome  fashion. 

The  pace  was  a  fast  one,  for  Betty  set  it 
with  the  Marquis,  and  Brinton  found  to  his 
annoyance  that  his  horse  constantly  out 
stripped  Miss  Chew's.  "  They've  given  you 
Duncannon,  Mr.  Eliot,"  said  Miss  Chew. 
"  He's  much  faster  than  Lady  Mary."  Things 
went  well  enough  until  they  turned  toward 
Germantown,  when  the  Marquis  leaped  in  an 
alarming  manner  as  a  rabbit  ran  across  the 
road,  and  if  Betty's  horsemanship  had  not 
been  excellent,  she  would  have  been  thrown. 
As  they  dashed  on,  she  in  her  blue  Joseph 
and  Bingham  in  his  scarlet  coat,  Brinton  re- 

112 


In  and  Out  of  Yale 

marked  to  Sally  Chew  that  he  thought  the 
Marquis  was  not  fit  for  Betty  to  ride,  to  which 
Miss  Chew  answered  that  she  herself  would 
not  dare  to  mount  the  horse,  but  that  Betty 
rode  splendidly.  The  day  was  perfect,  the 
country  beautiful,  but  Brinton  saw  nothing 
save  the  black  horse,  the  bright  blue  Joseph, 
and  the  white  plumed  hat.  They  stopped  at 
the  "  Mermaid,"  where  Betty  refused  to  dis 
mount,  would  have  nothing  but  a  sip  of  gin 
ger  beverage,  and  said  it  was  quite  time  to 
start  home.  Brinton  saw  she  was  at  odds 
with  Bingham. 

If  the  Marquis  had  behaved  badly  before, 
he  was  worse  on  the  way  back,  and  Brinton, 
in  his  determination  not  to  lose  sight  of  Betty, 
asked  Miss  Chew  more  than  once  to  quicken 
her  pace.  "  Major  Bingham's  close  beside 
her,"  said  Sally.  "  You  need  not  worry,  Mr. 
Eliot."  To  which  remark  Brinton  made  no 
answer.  They  were  within  a  few  miles  of 
Westwood  when  Betty  suddenly  gave  the 
Marquis  a  sharp  cut  with  her  whip  which 
made  him  leap  furiously.  "  Gad  !  "  said  Brin 
ton,  spurring  his  horse,  "  she  ought  not  to  do 
that."  Bingham  attempted  to  overtake  her, 
but  she  struck  the  Marquis  another  stinging 
blow,  and  Brinton,  spurring  Duncannon,  gal 
loped  after  her,  passing  the  British  officer, 
who  pulled  up  with  an  oath.  On  they  dashed, 
the  Marquis  rushing  madly  and  Duncannon 


Brinton  Eliot 

following  at  terrific  speed.  "  Betty !  "  cried 
Brinton,  "  can't  you  stop  him  ? "  At  the 
sound  of  Brinton's  voice,  Betty  made  a  des 
perate  effort  to  check  the  Marquis,  but  the 
horse  had  passed  beyond  her  control.  u  Brin 
ton!  "  she  cried,  "he's  running  away!"  Brinton 
knew  it  but  too  well.  Ahead  the  road  turned 
to  the  right,  while  a  meadow  stretched  to  the 
low  green  bushes  on  the  bank  of  the  winding 
Schuylkill,  and  to  his  dying  day  Brinton  Eliot 
never  forgot  the  shock  he  experienced  when 
the  Marquis,  which  Betty  had  been  unable  to 
turn,  rushed  across  that  meadow.  The  rest 
happened  so  quickly  no  words  can  tell  it. 
Duncannon  came  like  a  whirlwind ;  Brinton, 
haggard  and  hatless,  bent  low  and  threw  his 
right  arm  round  Betty's  waist.  "  For  God's 
sake  !  Betty,"  he  cried,  "  let  go !  "  She  turned 
toward  him  a  pale  frightened  face,  and  flung 
her  arms  about  his  neck ;  he  whirled  Duncan 
non  to  the  left,  and  the  Marquis  dashed  on 
into  the  Schuylkill. 

"  Betty,"  said  Brinton,  "  you  needn't  trem 
ble  so,  now.  It's  all  right." 

"  I  know,"  said  Betty,  "  but  somehow  I 
can't  help  it.  My  nerves,  I  suppose.  Sit 
still  please,  Brinton,  for  a  moment,  till  I  get 
over  it.  Then  you  can  help  me  down." 
After  a  moment  she  added,  "  Now,  I'm  ready. 
You  better  give  me  the  reins." 

Brinton  handed  them  to  her,  and  dismount- 
114 


In  and  Out  of  Yale 

ing  quickly,  went  to  the  right  side  of  Dun- 
cannon  and  helped  her  down  from  the  saddle. 

"  You're  not  hurt,  are  you  ?  "  said  he. 

"  I  don't  think  so.  My  ankle  hurts  a  little. 
Perhaps  I  twisted  it  in  the  stirrup.  'Twas  all 
amazing  sudden.  Brinton,  I  promised  Major 
Bingham  last  Friday  that  I'd  ride  to-day,  so 
of  course  I  thought  I  ought  to.  He's  been 
hateful  all  the  afternoon,  and  I  wanted  to  get 
away  from  him.  That's  why  I  whipped  the 
Marquis.  Oh,  Brinton !  There's  the  Mar 
quis  way  out  in  the  river !  " 

Brinton  turned  and  saw  the  horse's  head 
in  midstream,  for  the  Marquis  was  a  Narra- 
gansett,  and  they  were  famous  swimmers  all. 
"  He's  taking  the  short  cut  to  Westwood," 
said  Brinton.  "  He'll  be  home  before  us." 
Then  going  up  to  Betty  he  took  her  hand, 
and  said  earnestly,  "  Betty,  promise  me  that 
you  won't  ride  the  Marquis  again." 

"  I  promise,  Brinton." 

At  that  moment  Major  Bingham  and  Miss 
Chew  rode  up. 

"  Miss  Allen,"  cried  Bingham,  "  you  ride 
devilish  fast." 

"And  you,  devilish  slow,  sir!  " 

"Betty,"  cried  Miss  Chew,  "what's  hap 
pened  ? " 

"  Oh,  lots  of  things !  The  Marquis  is  in 
the  Schuylkill.  Sally,  do  hurry  home  —  it's 
only  three  miles — and  tell  mother  I'm  all 

"5 


Brinton  Eliot 

right.  If  the  Marquis  gets  there  first,  she'll 
have  hysterics.  I'll  walk  home  with  Brinton." 

"  Egad !  Miss  Allen,"  said  Bingham,  "  may 
I  help  you  ?  " 

"  No,  you  may  not  —  unless  you  choose  to 
jump  in  after  the  Marquis." 

There  was  some  commotion  when  Miss 
Chew  and  Major  Bingham  reached  West- 
wood,  and  more  when  Betty  came  with  Brin 
ton,  who  was  leading  Duncannon.  She  was 
pale  and  limped  slightly,  but  she  mounted 
the  steps  of  the  veranda  lightly  enough,  say 
ing  with  a  laugh,  "  I've  done  it,  Brinton.  I 
told  you  I  could."  Then  as  they  crowded 
about  her,  asking  questions,  she  fainted,  and 
Brinton  caught  her  in  his  arms.  "  Gad  !  " 
said  he,  "  you  shouldn't  all  come  at  her  like 
that.  She's  had  a  nervous  shock,  and  walked 
three  miles  with  her  ankle  in  I  don't  know 
what  kind  of  shape.  She  said  it  didn't  hurt 
her,  but  I  know  it  did.  She  wouldn't  let  me 
put  her  up  on  Duncannon,  either.  She  just 
travelled  on  her  nerve." 

During  the  next  four  days  Brinton  spent 
most  of  his  time  riding  between  the  Win- 
throps'  and  Westwood.  He  was  not  allowed 
to  see  Betty,  who  was  quite  ill.  Dr.  Rush 
gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  she  had  been 
under  a  nervous  strain  for  some  months, — 
too  many  dances,  and  the  excitements  of  her 
first  winter  in  society,  —  and  that  the  recent 

116 


In  and  Out   of  Yale 

shock  made  it  necessary  that  she  should 
have  absolute  rest.  This,  as  may  be  imag 
ined,  ended  all  pleasure  for  Brinton,  Ben, 
and  Nathan,  and  made  the  days  at  Mrs. 
Winthrop's  very  quiet  ones.  On  Saturday, 
the  day  on  which  they  had  to  leave,  the  three 
rode  to  Westwood. 

"  Mrs.  Allen,"  said  Brinton,  "  I  have  to 
go  to-day.  Don't  you  think  I  could  say 
good-by  to  Betty,  just  for  a  minute  ? " 

"  Perhaps  you  can,  Brinton.  She  is  better 
to-day.  Wait  until  Dr.  Rush  comes." 

So  they  waited,  and  at  the  end  of  two 
hours  the  doctor's  chaise  appeared.  After  a 
time  he  came  out  on  the  veranda  and  said 
briskly,  "  Mr.  Eliot,  you  can  come  up  with 
me,  and  I'll  give  you  just  two  minutes  by 
the  watch."  They  went.  There  was  not 
much  light,  a  big  mahogany  bed  with  long 
white  curtains,  and  Betty. 

"  Brinton,"  said  she,  giving  him  her  hand, 
"  I'm  amazing  glad  to  see  you.  This  is  a 
foolish  performance,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"It's  hard  luck,  Betty,  but  you'll  be  all 
right  soon." 

"  Oh,  yes.  I'm  much  better  to-day.  I 
simply  have  to  keep  quiet.  That's  not  so 
easy,"  she  added,  smiling.  "  Do  you  kno\v, 
the  Marquis  got  home  in  better  shape  than 
I  did.  You're  going  to-day,  aren't  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  Betty,  I  have  to."' 
117 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  Say  good-by  to  Ben  and  Nathan  for  me." 

"  I  will." 

"  Good-by,  Brinton.  I  can  never  thank 
you  as  much  as  you  deserve." 

"  Oh,  Betty,  don't  bother  about  that.  Just 
hurry  up  and  get  well,  and  the  next  time  we 
ride  —  " 

"  I  won't  ride  the  Marquis,  Brinton.  Good- 
by." 

"  Good-by,  Betty." 

The  time  was  up,  and  Brinton  went  down 
stairs,  but  years  afterward  he  could  repeat 
every  word  which  was  said  in  that  two 
minutes. 

He  rode  back  to  the  Winthrops'  with  Ben 
and  Nathan,  and  in  the  afternoon  the  three 
left  for  New  York,  where  Brinton  kept  Ben 
and  Nathan  over  night  and  saw  them  off  on 
the  Connecticut  coach,  bidding  them  an 
affectionate  farewell  until  the  time  when 
they  were  all  to  meet  again  beneath  the 
elms. 


118 


CHAPTER   IX 

VALE  !    ALMA   MATER 

EARLY  in  September  Brinton  had  news  of 
Betty,  who  had  quite  recovered  and  had  gone 
with  Mrs.  Keayne  Allen  to  visit  the  Wether- 
ills  in  Virginia.  In  the  second  week  of  that 
month  life  at  Yale  began  again,  and  Eliot, 
Hale,  and  Tallmadge  entered  upon  their 
Junior  year,  but  of  that  year  and  the  one 
following,  it  is  to  the  present  purpose  to 
speak  briefly.  They  were  bright,  glad  years 
and  short  years.  Are  the  years  at  college 
ever  long  ? 

Ben  and  Brinton  retained  their  room  on 
the  third  floor  of  Connecticut,  southeast  cor 
ner,  throughout  their  course,  for  they  were 
too  much  attached  to  it  to  move.  It  con 
tinued  to  be  the  rendezvous  for  Hale,  Lamb, 
Paddleford,  Royal  Flint,  and  others;  in  it 
many  mugs  of  excellent  flip  were  drunk,  and 
many  plans  discussed  for  the  improvement 
of  Linonia.  The  Class  of  '75  made  its  en 
trance  into  the  small  and  highly-organized 
community,  and  as  it  was  soon  found  that 
'75  had  numerous  bumps  and  corners  which 

119 


Brinton  Eliot 

needed  polishing,  '74  joyfully  took  the  task 
in  hand,  and  '75  was  fagged  in  proper  fash 
ion.  But  David  Humphreys  had  done  his 
work,  and  the  methods  employed  by  Clang- 
born  and  his  associates  ceased  with  the  pass 
ing  of  '71.  What  Humphreys  had  been, 
Nathan  Hale  became  —  a  power  for  all  that 
was  best  in  college  life.  Genial,  studious, 
modest,  true,  he  rose,  and  Linonia  rose  with 
him,  and  when  '73  had  mounted  step  by  step 
from  factotums  and  the  fag-end  to  the  sun 
lit  heights  of  Seniorhood,  and  '76  were  candi 
dates  for  the  red  of  Linonia  or  the  blue  of 
Brothers,  Linonia  stood  to  pick  and  choose. 
Linonia,  too,  lost  nothing  by  Eliot's  gener 
osity;  for  curiously  enough,  Woodbridge, 
the  pride  of  '74  in  Freshman  year,  was  later 
far  surpassed  in  influence  and  popularity  by 
Tiffany  Taylor,  proving,  perhaps,  that  the 
judgments  of  Sophomores  are  not  infallible. 
It  was  no  small  triumph,  likewise,  for  Lino 
nia,  when,  in  1772,  Nathan  Hale,  Brinton 
Eliot,  James  Hillhouse,  and  John  Wyllys 
played  publicly  the  "  Beaux's  Stratagems " 
before  a  delighted  audience  in  which  sat  no 
less  a  personage  than  the  right  honorable, 
the  Governor  of  Connecticut. 

In  those  years  the  college  progressed  also, 
the  classes  increased  in  numbers,  and  by  per 
severance  and  persuasion  Timothy  Dwight 
and  John  Trumbull  introduced  into  the  iron- 

I2O 


Vale !    Alma    Mater 

bound  curriculum  history  and  belles-lettres. 
The  Legislature  paid  the  college  debt  and 
placed  before  the  college  yard  those  simple 
posts  and  long  round  rails,  the  first  Yale 
Fence,  that  splendid  monument  of  democracy. 
Thus,  in  its  season,  the  time  came  when 
the  Class  of  '73  were  to  leave  their  well-loved 
Mother  and  march  forth  in  the  world,  the 
sons  of  Yale.  The  bell  of  the  brick  church 
on  the  Green  pealed  solemnly,  the  white 
doors  stood  asunder,  and  thither  the  citizens 
of  New  Haven  came ;  men  with  cocked  hats 
trimmed  with  metal  laces  which  sparkled  in 
the  sunlight,  women  in  blue  or  white  gowns 
of  erminetta.  Down  the  steps  of  College 
Hall  and  across  the  Green,  the  procession 
advanced  slowly  —  a  long  black  line,  ending 
in  a  square  of  color  —  and,  passing  the  white 
doors,  went  up  the  aisle  of  the  crowded 
church.  The  students,  in  black  gowns,  with 
hair  carefully  powdered,  walked  two  and  two, 
the  Freshmen  heading,  the  Seniors  closing, 
the  line.  The  tutors  followed,  —  Mr.  Dwight 
with  Mr.  Trumbull,  Mr.  Mitchell  with  Mr. 
Davenport,  Mr.  Buckminster  with  the  Rev. 
Samuel  Wales,  —  behind  them  were  mem 
bers  of  the  Legislature  and  of  the  Council, 
in  brilliant  coats,  waistcoats,  and  small-clothes, 
silk  stockings,  and  silver  shoe-buckles,  and 
finally,  the  right  honorable,  the  Governor  of 
Connecticut,  and  President  Naphtali  Dag- 

121 


Brinton  Eliot 

gett,  the  former,  resplendent  in  scarlet  and 
gold  lace,  the  latter,  majestic  in  his  rich 
black  robe  and  great  white  wig. 

When  all  had  taken  their  appointed  places, 
the  president  offered  a  prayer,  after  which 
Nathan  Hale  mounted  the  platform  and  de 
livered  the  Latin  salutatory  in  a  highly  cred 
itable  manner.  Mistress  Margaret  Winthrop, 
had  she  been  present,  would  have  been  de 
lighted,  but  could  not  have  understood  a 
word.  The  syllogistic  disputes  followed,  the 
speakers  standing  in  the  side  galleries,  and 
then  were  heard  the  Quastiones  Magistrates, 
delivered  by  those  who  returned  to  take  their 
second  degree.  Ryder  Dohm  gave  the  vale 
dictory,  and  did  it  well,  surprising  more  than 
one  of  his  classmates,  who  had  no  idea  that 
there  was  so  much  real  manhood  in  him. 
And  when  all  was  done,  save  the  conferring 
of  degrees,  the  Class  of  '73,  for  whom  the 
final  hour  had  struck,  rose  in  their  places, 
awaiting  the  president's  word.  Before  them 
sat  the  members  of  the  Legislature  and  the 
Council,  to  the  left,  the  Governor  of  Connect 
icut  in  his  scarlet  splendor,  but  these  brill 
iantly-decked  officials  attracted  no  attention 
from  the  Seniors.  In  the  few  fleeting  mo 
ments  which  remained  to  them,  of  their  exist 
ence  as  members  of  Yale  College,  their  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  the  venerable  man  who  was 
its  head,  whom  they  frequently  could  not 

122 


Vale !    Alma    Mater 

understand,  whom  they  had  often  ridiculed, 
but  to  whom  in  their  hearts  they  were  pro 
foundly  loyal,  and  from  whom  in  the  final 
moment  they  parted  with  a  pang  of  sorrow 
—  Naphtali  Daggett,  Prases  Yalcnsis,  lord 
of  the  college  world. 

Then,  in  the  solemn  silence,  sounded  the 
president's  voice — "  Pro  auctoritate  mihi  com- 
missa  "  —  beginning  that  memorable  speech 
which,  year  by  year,  for  two  centuries  has 
sent  into  the  world  soldiers  and  statesmen, 
presidents  and  professors,  lawyers  and  legis 
lators,  who  did  their  work  well  in  their  day 
and  generation,  and,  into  whatever  lands 
their  duties  called  them,  cherished  in  their 
breasts  the  nomen  laudesque  Yalenses,  which 
"  the  children  and  the  fathers,  with  united 
hearts,  shall  sing"  —  and  as  the  voice  of  the 
prczses  ceased,  there  ended  also  for  Nathan 
Hale,  Brinton  Eliot,  and  Benjamin  Tall- 
madge,  four  years  at  Yale. 

That  evening  they  sat  together  on  the 
Fence.  Before  them  stretched  the  Green,  and 
in  the  distance  glimmered  faintly  lights  in  the 
houses.  Behind  them  the  dark  College  Hall 
reared  its  clock-decked  cupola,  majestic  in 
the  moonlight,  while,  beyond  the  black  shad 
ows  of  the  elms,  the  red  walls  of  Connecticut 
wore  a  silvery  sheen.  The  past  had  been  so 
glad  and  gay.  What  would  the  future  be  ? 

"  Nathan,"  said  Brinton,  "  write  to  me  as 
123 


Brinton  Eliot 

soon  as  you're  settled  in  New  London  and 
let  me  know  how  you  like  the  school.  When 
ever  you  come  to  New  York,  you'll  find  me 
down  in  father's  warehouse  on  the  East 
River  in  my  shirt  sleeves  among  bales  of 
byrampauts,  chowtahs,  tanjeebs,  and  other 
stuff  from  India.  I  have  to  learn  the  thing 
from  the  ground  up." 

"  I'll  write  to  you,  Brinton.  I  have  a  good 
chance  to  teach  at  New  London,  and  I  think 
I  ought  to  take  it" 

"Yes,"  said  Brinton,  "and  I'll  come  up,  as 
soon  as  I  can,  to  see  the  pedagogue.  Here's 
Ben,  smoking  and  not  saying  a  word.  He's 
going  to  teach,  too.  Ben,  can  you  realize 
that  you're  an  alumnus  ?  " 

"I  couldn't,"  said  Ben,  "till  I  saw  our 
room  with  everything  packed.  It's  desolate 
enough,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Gad  !  "  said  Brinton,  "  it's  awful !  " 

"  Nathan,"  said  Ben,  "  you  were  grand  this 
morning.  Wasn't  he,  Brinton  ?  " 

"  I  should  say  he  was.  Poor  old  '  Mutton ' 
Lamb  was  crying  when  he  got  his  parch 
ment.  '  Mutton '  kicks  at  everything,  but  he 
loves  Yale  all  the  same." 

"  I  can't  realize  that  it's  all  over,"  said  Ben. 
"  It  seems  as  though  somehow  we  must  hear 
Fitch  ring  the  bell  in  the  morning." 

"I'm  afraid,  Ben,"  said  Nathan,  "we'll 
never  hear  Fitch  ring  the  bell  again." 

124 


Vale !    Alma    Mater 

"Nathan,"  said  Brinton,  "don't  talk  like 
that  or  we'll  all  blubber  the  way  '  Mutton  ' 
did." 

For  a  while  they  smoked  in  silence,  and 
then,  arm  in  arm,  walked  —  for  the  last  time 
—  to  Connecticut  Hall.  In  the  morning 
came  the  pain  of  parting,  and  they  went 
their  ways,  full  of  their  futures,  hoping  soon 
to  meet  again,  and  little  dreaming  that  at 
that  hour  on  the  broad  Atlantic,  with  sails 
set,  tossed  the  tea-ships  of  His  Britannic 
Majesty,  heading  Bostonward. 


125 


PART  II.  — FROM  YALE  TO 
YORKTOWN 


CHAPTER   I 

BRINTON     ELIOT     HEARS     NEWS 

ON  a  bright  September  morning  in  the 
year  1777,  the  good  ship  Flamand,  Captain 
Ichabod  Elderkin,  passed  the  Forts  St. 
Nicolas  and  St.  Jean,  and  dropped  anchor  in 
the  harbor  of  Marseilles,  amid  a  forest  of 
masts  of  many  nations.  She  had  some  diffi 
culty  in  making  the  dock,  for  the  vieux  port 
was  then  the  only  harbor.  "  Blow  me ! " 
said  Captain  Elderkin,  as  he  came  down  the 
rope-ladder,  "  this  'ere  horse-pond  ain't  no 
port."  "  It's  larger  than  you  think  for,  Cap," 
said  Brinton,  coming  down  after  him. 
"  You  always  compare  everything  with  New 
York." 

The  water  of  the  harbor  was  dirty,  but  the 
place  was  picturesque  with  its  lines  of  white 
rocks,  its  quaint  stone  houses,  its  narrow, 
crooked  streets,  its  vines  and  olive  trees,  and 
its  sun-blistered  villas.  Above  it  was  a  sky 
of  surprising  blueness,  and  on  its  docks  were 
men  from  many  lands.  Turks  jostled  Alge 
rians,  merchants  from  Cadiz  bargained  with 

K  129 


Brinton  Eliot 

merchants  from  Amsterdam,  Greeks  swore  at 
Corsicans,  and  the  happy-go-lucky  Frenchmen 
made  money  from  them  all. 

Passing  through  this  mixed  crowd,  Brinton 
and  Captain  Elderkin  went  in  search  of 
Peyron  Freres  with  whom  they  had  business, 
and  even  in  the  Rue  de  la  Loge,  Brinton  felt 
the  motion  of  the  ship.  His  cheeks  were 
tanned  by  the  sun  and  wind,  and  his  black 
hair  was  unpowdered.  Elderkin  was  about 
forty-five  and  had  been  born  in  New  England. 
In  his  youth  he  read  the  Bay  Psalm- Book  and 
Wigglesworth's  "  Day  of  Doom  "  —  an  epic 
of  hell-fire  and  damnation  quite  unsurpassed 
—  which,  as  it  was  printed  in  cheap  form  on 
broadsides,  hawked  over  the  country  by  chap 
men,  and  sold  to  one  in  every  thirty-five 
inhabitants,  finally  got  round  to  Elderkin. 
He  read  it,  absorbed  it,  and  quoted  it  to  his 
aunt,  who  promptly  declared  that  he  would 
become  a  second  Cotton  Mather.  Elderkin, 
however,  lost  what  he  had  in  a  lottery  and 
took  to  the  sea,  proving,  perhaps,  that  it  is 
sometimes  dangerous  for  maiden  ladies  to 
make  prophecies.  He  had  sailed  the  Atlantic 
for  thirty  years,  learning  much  of  ships  and 
men,  and  had  been  fifteen  years  in  the  service 
of  Mr.  William  Eliot.  He  was  an  excellent 
man.  He  never  drank  to  excess ;  he  never 
swore,  except  when  he  needed  it  in  his  busi 
ness,  which  was  practically  three-fourths  of 
130 


Brinton  Eliot  hears  News 

the  time,  but  his  ideas  of  the  future  were 
warped  by  Wigglesworth. 

"  Cap  !  "  exclaimed  Brinton,  "  look  in  that 
window !  There's  a  picture  of  Mr.  Ben 
Franklin  !  Isn't  that  odd  ?  " 

"  Well,  ef  hit  ain't !  Th'  las'  time  I  seen 
Ben  Franklin,  'e  sez  ter  me  sez  'e,  '  Elder- 
kin'— " 

"  Never  mind  now,  Cap,  what  he  said. 
We've  got  to  find  Peyron  Freres.  You  wait 
here.  I'll  ask  in  this  shop." 

Brinton  disappeared  through  a  doorway, 
above  which  hung  a  large  blue  sign  with  a 
red  boot  on  it,  and  coming  out  shortly,  re 
marked,  "  It's  all  right.  Peyron's  is  straight 
ahead  in  the  Rue  Coutellerie."  They  went 
on  their  way,  but  before  they  had  gone  sixty 
feet  Brinton  exclaimed,  "  Look  across  the 
street!  There's  another  picture  of  Ben 
Franklin,  a  big  one  with  printing  on  it.  Let's 
go  and  see  what  it  says."  They  crossed  the 
street  and  stood  before  a  book-shop  in  which 
was  displayed  the  portrait  \vith  spectacles  and 
fur  cap,  and  under  it  the  motto  Eripiiit  ccelo 
fulmen  septrumque  tyrannis. 

The  scene  was  a  good  one  for  a  painter : 
the  narrow  street  with  its  rough  cobbles  and 
gutter  half  full  of  muddy  water ;  the  houses 
with  quaint  signs  of  handicraftsmen ;  an  old 
woman  with  wooden  shoes,  and  brooms  on 
her  back,  leading  a  donkey  on  which  were 


Brinton  Eliot 

strapped  panniers  full  of  fruit;  a  bronze- 
colored  Moroccoan  with  white  turban  and 
cloak  and  large  gold  earrings ;  a  Turk  in  red, 
talking  to  a  French  merchant,  powdered  and 
pomaded,  with  lace  ruffles  and  silk  stockings ; 
the  bookseller's  shop  with  its  green  front  and 
white  shutters ;  the  rawboned  Elderkin  with 
his  straight  hair  falling  over  his  ears  to  his 
collar,  his  long-skirted  coat  with  brass  but 
tons  and  large  leaded  cuffs,  his  wrinkled  blue 
stockings  and  shoes  with  brass  buckles  ;  the 
handsome  youth  with  his  cocked  hat  trimmed 
with  metal  lace,  his  heavy  dark  hair  tied 
neatly  with  a  black  ribbon,  his  rich  mulberry 
coat  and  his  canary-colored  waistcoat;  and, 
above  the  rows  of  board-bound  i2mos  and 
iSmos,  the  portrait  of  Philadelphia's  most 
famous  citizen,  at  that  moment  the  idol  of 
all  France. 

"  Gad !  "  said  Brinton,  "  I  wish  I'd  studied 
my  Tully  harder.  I  don't  know  what  eripuit 
means.  Perhaps  it's  '  ripped.'  '  He's  ripped 
the  lightning  from  the  sky  and  the  sceptre 
from  tyrants.'  I  don't  see  what  the  '  sceptre 
from  tyrants'  has  to  do  with  it." 

"  Gosh  !  "  said  Elderkin.  "  Th'  las'  time  I 
seen  Ben  Franklin — " 

But  at  that  moment  the  bookseller  came 
out.  He  was  a  fat  little  Frenchman  with  a 
fine  white  wig  and  nankeen  small-clothes. 

"  Ah,  messieurs !  It  is  the  portrait  of 
132 


Brinton  Eliot  hears  News 

the  grand  Franklin,  an  engraving  the  most 
sublime.  You  will  buy  ?  I  sell  cheap  for 
cash." 

"  No,"  said  Brinton,  in  French,  "  we  don't 
want  to  buy  now.  We  were  interested  to 
find  Mr.  Franklin's  picture  here,  because,  you 
see,  we  live  in  New  York." 

Fortunately  for  Brinton  he  was  on  the 
farther  side  of  Elderkin ;  that  saved  him. 
The  fat  Frenchman  bounded  forward  like  a 
rubber  ball,  threw  his  arms  round  Elderkin's 
neck,  kissed  him  on  both  cheeks,  and  bawled 
at  the  top  of  his  voice, "  Vivent  lesAmericains  !  " 
"Blow#2£/"  cried  the  astounded  Elderkin, 
sending  the  bookseller  against  his  stall  with 
a  quick  shove  which  knocked  I2mos  and 
iSmos  to  the  cobbles.  "Come  on,  Cap," 
said  Brinton.  "  Don't  get  in  a  row.  He 
means  all  right ;  "  and  taking  Elderkin's  arm, 
he  started  up  the  street.  But  the  bookseller 
continued  to  shout.  Windows  flew  up,  shop 
keepers  came  running  out,  and  when  Brinton 
and  Elderkin  reached  the  Rue  Coutellerie, 
they  were  surrounded  by  half  a  hundred  men 
and  boys,  waving  their  hats  and  crying  joy 
fully,  "  Vivent  les  Americains  /  " 

"  God's  fish !  "  exclaimed  Elderkin.  "Ain't 
they  th'  darndest  ?  " 

"  I'm  damned  if  I  understand  it,"  said  Brin 
ton.     "  I've  heard  the  French  were  cordial, 
but   I  think  they're  crazy.     Thank  Heaven 
133 


Brinton  Eliot 

there's  Peyron's.    Now,  Cap,  break  away  from 
'em,  and  run  for  it !  " 

Once  inside  Peyron  Freres,  Brinton  in 
quired  for  M.  Achille  Peyron,  with  whom 
Mr.  William  Eliot  had  done  business  for  sev 
eral  years,  and  when  that  gentleman  appeared 
— portly,  prosperous,  and  well  dressed  —  Brin 
ton  introduced  himself,  presented  his  papers, 
and  added,  "J'ai  des  malles  a  reclameravous, 
monsieur.  Avez-vous  des  lettres  pour  moi?  " 
M.  Peyron  replied  that  he  thought  it  likely, 
and  sent  a  clerk  to  see. 

"  Whatever  I  can  do  for  you,  monsieur," 
he  added,  "  will  be  a  pleasure  and  an  honor." 

"  Thank  you,  monsieur.  We  have  been  re 
ceived  in  a  remarkable  manner.  Why  are 
Mr.  Franklin's  pictures  everywhere  ?  " 

"Ah!  The  Ambassador  of  the  United 
States  is  the  man  of  the  hour,  monsieur." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  What  country  did 
you  say  ? " 

"  The  United  States." 

"  I  never  heard  of  it." 

"  Mon  Dieu  !  You  live  in  it !  " 

"  I  live  in  New  York,  in  the  colonies,  if 
that's  what  you  mean." 

"  Nom  de  Dieu  /  From  where  do  you 
come  ? " 

"  Bombay." 

"  And  when  did  you  leave  New  York, 
pray?" 

'34 


Brinton  Eliot  hears  News 

"  The  last  of  March,  '75." 

"  Ventrebleu  !  " 

The  next  ten  minutes  were  among  the 
most  exciting  in  Brinton  Eliot's  life,  as  he 
learned  for  the  first  time  what  had  happened 
in  America  since  that  March  morning  when 
the  Flamand  sailed  by  Sandy  Hook.  The 
news  had  followed  him,  but  he  had  kept  ahead 
of  it,  from  Martinique  to  Madras,  Madras  to 
Pondicherry,  and  Pondicherry  to  Bombay. 
And  now  from  M.  Achille  Peyron  of  Mar 
seilles  he  heard  it,  —  Lexington,  Concord, 
Bunker  Hill,  the  Declaration  of  Indepen 
dence,  Trenton,  Princeton,  Franklin  in 
France,  and  France  Franklin-mad,  —  and 
having  slept  the  night  before  on  board  the 
Flamand,  thinking  himself  a  British  subject, 
he  awoke  to  find  that  he  was  an  American 
citizen.  The  transition  was  inspiring. 

Elderkin,  who  did  not  understand  French, 
was  inspecting  some  bales  of  boglipores  and 
bejauraupauts,  when  Brinton  hit  him  a  crack 
on  the  shoulder  that  nearly  knocked  him  down. 

"  Cap !  "  cried  Brinton,  excitedly,  "  what  do 
you  think's  happened  ?  The  colonies  have 
made  war  on  England,  they've  got  a  Declara 
tion  of  Independence,  they've  fought  all  kinds 
of  battles,  they've  formed  the  United  States 
of  America,  and  we  belong  to  it ! " 

"Lord  God  A'mighty!"  exclaimed  Elder- 
kin.  "  Blow  me  /  " 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  That's  why  the  French  are  all  crazy," 
cried  Brinton.  "  Don't  stand  there  like  an 
idiot !  Get  out  and  shout ! " 

And  carried  away  by  it  all,  he  rushed  into 
the  Rue  Coutellerie  and  cried,  "  Long  live 
the  United  States  !  "  Up  went  the  windows, 
out  popped  the  heads,  and  the  Rue  Coutel 
lerie  resounded  with  the  shouts  of  Vivent  les 
Etats  Unis!  In  three  minutes  there  was  a 
crowd  of  forty,  in  five  minutes  a  crowd  of 
seventy.  It  was  a  sight  to  see  Ichabod  Elder- 
kin  dancing  about  and  embracing  Frenchmen, 
and  while  the  excitement  was  at  its  height, 
a  seedy-looking  individual  mounted  a  chair 
in  the  gutter,  whipped  out  a  copy  of  Jean 
Jacques  Rousseau,  and  began  to  read  the 
rights  of  man. 

When  it  was  all  over,  Brinton  and  Elderkin 
went  with  M.  Peyron  to  dine  at  the  Cafe 
d'Acajon,  where  Brinton,  in  his  eagerness 
for  news,  devoured  the  Mercure  de  France 
more  than  the  dinner,  and  read  two  letters 
from  his  father,  already  many  months  old, 
which  opened  up  new  problems.  Afterward 
he  held  a  conference  with  Peyron  for  nearly 
two  hours,  while  Elderkin  smoked  a  clay  pipe 
to  the  disgust  of  the  proprietor  of  the  cafe. 
When  M.  Peyron,  with  many  expressions  of 
good  will,  took  his  departure,  Brinton  sat  for 
a  while  tapping  a  wine-glass  with  his  fork. 

"  Mr.  El'ot,"  said  Elderkin,  "  I  ain't  holler'd 
136 


Brinton  Eliot  hears  News 

s'  much  sence  I  wtiz  a  boy.  Th'  hull  thing 
is  gret !  I  reckon  now  well  tigger  t'  git  hum." 

"  That's  what  I'm  figuring  now.  The 
British  have  captured  New  York." 

"  Th'  hell  they  hev !  " 

"  Yes.  They  seized  some  of  father's  ships, 
too." 

"  Blow  me  !  " 

"  Peyron  says  we  won't  be  safe  three  weeks 
on  the  Atlantic  as  we  are." 

"  Mebbe  so,  an'  agin  mebbe  not." 

"  Now  we  have  sixty  men." 

"  Yep.     More'n  half'll  be  drunk  afore  sun- 
» 
up. 

"  Of  course.  I  suppose  we  have  to  give 
them  two  days,  but  if  they  are  not  sober  in 
three,  we'll  get  others.  Heathcote  can  attend 
to  that.  He's  a  good  mate." 

"  He  ain't  slow." 

"  M.  Peyron  has  offered  to  buy  the  whole 
cargo  —  tanjeebs,  tepoys,  mamoodies,  jollo- 
pours,  chowtahs,  baguzzees,  everything.  I'm 
going  to  let  him  have  it.  Then  we'll  stick 
the  Flamand  full  of  guns  and  go  home  as  a 
privateersman." 

"  Ef  thet  ain't  gret !  I've  kinder  hankered 
t'  be  a  man-o'-war's  man.  But  how'n  hell 
kin  we  git  a  commisshun  fer  sich  doin's  ? " 

"  Oh,  that's  easy  enough.  Peyron  says  Ben 
Franklin  is  issuing  letters  of  marque.  I'll  go 
to  Paris  and  get  one." 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  Th'  las'  time  I  seen  Ben  Franklin  —  " 

"  Never  mind  about  that,  Cap.  What  do 
you  think  of  the  plan  ?  " 

"  Gret !  Mr.  El'ot,  I  allus  tol'  yer  dad  ye'd 
be  a  creedit  ter  'im." 

Thus  the  matter  was  arranged,  and  on  the 
following  morning,  leaving  Elderkin  and 
Heathcote  to  manage  the  transfer  of  the  Fla- 
mancTs  cargo  from  the  ship  to  the  warehouse 
of  Peyron  Freres,  Brinton  Eliot  took  the  dili 
gence  for  Paris. 


138 


CHAPTER    II 

• 

AT    PHILADELPHIA 

THE  British  held  the  city.  Howe's  ships 
lay  in  the  Delaware ;  his  artillery  stood  before 
the  State  House ;  and  as  Miss  Betty  Allen,  in 
her  varnished  chaise,  passed  the  Cadwaladers' 
in  Second  Street,  where  Howe  had  his  head 
quarters,  she  saw  before  the  door  the  equipage 
he  used — Mrs.  Pemberton's  coach  and  pair — 
and  about  it  the  scarlet  horsemen  of  Corn- 
wallis.  The  wind  was  cold,  and  Miss  Allen's 
head  was  quite  enveloped  in  the  silk-lined 
hood  of  her  cloth  cardinal.  Perhaps  that  was 
the  reason  she  did  not  greet  Major  George 
Bingham,  who  bowed  to  her  from  the  porch 
of  the  Cadwaladers'.  Some  ten  minutes  later 
she  was  in  the  Winthrops'  drawing-room. 

"  Polly  Winthrop,"  said  Betty,  "  you've  not 
been  at  Westwood  for  a  week.  Why  didn't 
you  come  to  the  tea-drinking  at  the  Shippens' 
yesterday,? " 

"  I  was  coming,"  said  Polly,  "  but  lots  of 
things  happened.  We  were  going  out  to  the 
coach,  and  when  we  opened  the  door,  there 
stood  a  quarter-master  and  four  artillerymen. 


Brinton  Eliot 

Betty,  they  were  not  a  bit  clean.  '  Madam,' 
said  he,  *  I  'ave  me  orders  t'  billet  these  'ere 
fellers  in  your  'ouse.'  Betty,  you  should 
have  seen  mother.  She  had  on  her  black 
velvet  with  the  pink  satin  petticoat,  pink 
sleeves,  and  pink  stomacher,  and  over  it  her 
white  crape  skirt,  spotted  with  gray  fur.  She 
was  really  grand.  'Lud!'  said  she.  'What 
impudence  ! '  Well,  we  jumped  right  in  the 
coach  and  drove  to  General  Howe's,  where 
mother  spoke  her  mind.  You  know  she  can. 
General  Howe  was  monstrous  polite,  and  the 
quarter-master  was  sent  to  some  one  else. 
But  then  it  was  too  late  to  go  to  the  Ship- 
pens'.  Mother  said  she  didn't  care  much, 
because  she's  a  pronounced  Whig,  and  she 
doesn't  think  Judge  Shippen  ought  to  give 
tea-drinkings  anyway." 

"  I'm  a  pronounced  Whig,  too,"  said  Betty. 
"  They  say  at  home  I'm  the  only  Whig  in  the 
family.  But  you  needn't  drink  the  tea.  We 
had  a  lovely  time.  Miss  Vining  of  Wilming 
ton  played  the  harpsichord.  Peggy  Shippen 
sang.  She's  amazing  pretty.  It's  going  to 
be  her  first  winter,  and  she's  mad  at  the 
thought  of  it.  Major  Andre  played  the  vio 
lin  while  some  of  the  girls  danced.  He  tried 
to  twit  me  because  General  Washington 
didn't  win  at  Germantown,  but  he  got  as 

g)od  as   he  gave.     Sally  Chew  was  there, 
o  you  know — she  says  her  house  is  a  sight; 
140 


At   Philadelphia 

cannon-balls  went  through  it,  and  everything. 
Polly,  haven't  you  a  new  hoop?  How  well 
it  sets!" 

"  It  is  nice,  isn't  it  ?  I  wrish  I  could  show 
you  the  petticoat  I'm  going  to  wear  to  the 
assembly,  but  it's  not  quite  done.  It's  all 
covered  with  silver  flowers." 

"  Polly,  let  me  see  your  invitation  ?  " 

Mistress  Winthrop  picked  up  a  playing- 
card,  on  which  was  printed  an  invitation  to 
the  dancing  assembly  for  the  following 
Thursday,  and  handed  it  to  Miss  Allen. 

"  Yours  came  on  the  king  of  diamonds," 
said  Betty.  "  Mine  came  on  the  queen  of 
hearts.  That  was  odd,  wasn't  it?  I  wish 
you  could  see  the  way  Miss  Vining  wears 
her  hair.  It's  the  most  perfect  thing.  They 
call  it  the  coiffure  a  la  dauphine  after  Queen 
Marie  Antoinette.  J.  Black  is  the  only  hair 
dresser  in  town  that  knows  how  to  do  it,  and 
I've  ordered  him  to  come  to  Westwood  on 
Thursday  and  fix  me  up." 

"  The  winter  will  be  monstrous  gay,"  said 
Polly. 

"  Past  question,"  said  Betty.  "  You  see 
there  will  be  the  assemblies  every  Thursday. 
Then  next  Friday  General  Howe  gives  a 
concert ;  Saturday  the  Bonds  give  a  ball ; 
Sunday  afternoon  there's  a  tea-drinking  at 
the  Auchmutys';  Monday  the  Shippens  give 
a  dinner ;  Tuesday  mother  gives  a  ball ; 
141 


Brinton  Eliot 

Wednesday —  I've  forgotten  what  does  come 
Wednesday.  Do  you  know  —  they  are  fixing 
up  the  theatre  on  South  Street.  Major  Andre 
is  painting  scenery.  They  are  going  to  play 
the '  Constant  Couple/  and  who  do  you  think 
is  going  to  act?  Bingham!  The  horrid 
thing!  I  saw  him  a  few  minutes  ago  and 
cut  him  dead.  Do  you  know  what  he  did  ? 
He  and  some  officers  had  a  dinner  at  the 
'  Bunch  of  Grapes.'  They  were  all  disgust 
ingly  drunk,  and  Bingham  got  up  and  gave 
me  for  the  toast  and  made  'em  all  drink  to 
me.  Wasn't  that  mean?  Every  one  was 
talking  about  it." 

"  The  horrid  thing!"  exclaimed  Polly.  "I 
thought  we  were  through  with  Major  Bing 
ham  when  the  war  broke  out,  and  here  he  is 
back  again." 

"  Yes,"  said  Betty,  "  here  he  is  back  again. 
Polly  Winthrop,  do  you  know  —  I  some 
times  feel  like  crying  when  I  think  of  the 
country.  The  British  have  both  New  York 
and  Philadelphia,  and  General  Washington 
seems  to  have  such  a  hard  time.  I  hope 
General  Gates  will  succeed.  Every  one  says 
he  is  a  fine  soldier." 

"  That's  what  I  told  father,"  said  Polly, 
"  and  he  said,  *  Stuff !  Benedict  Arnold  and 
Philip  Schuyler  are  much  better.'  " 

"  I  wonder  if  that's  the  Benedict  Arnold 
we  met  in  New  Haven?"  said  Betty. 
142 


At    Philadelphia 

"  Ods !  "  exclaimed  Polly,  "  that  would  be 
queer,  wouldn't  it?" 

New  Haven !  How  many  memories  the 
name  recalled !  For  a  moment  both  girls 
looked  intently  at  the  log,  burning  on  the 
bright  brass  fire-dogs,  and  then  both  began 
to  cry. 

"  New  Haven  made  me  think  of  Nathan 
Hale,"  said  Polly,  sobbing.  "  It's  too  terri 
ble!  It's  more  than  a  year  since  it  happened, 
but  I  can't  get  over  it." 

"Polly,"  said  Betty,  "mother  said  this 
morning  that  Mr.  Eliot  had  lost  nearly 
everything.  That's  what  I  really  came  to 
see  you  about.  Has  he  ?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  he  has." 

"  Well,  Polly  —  did  Brinton  know  it  before 
he  went  away  ?  " 

"  Not  all  of  it,  because,  you  see,  uncle's 
ships  have  been  seized  since  the  war  began. 
He  said  when  he  was  here  last  year  that  the 
Flamand 'was  the  only  one  he  had  left.  Brin- 
ton's  on  that.  Uncle  said  there  was  no  com 
merce  in  New  York  any  more.  We  \vanted 
him  to  stay  here,  but  he  wouldn't.  He 
wouldn't  allow  mother  to  loan  him  any 
money  either,  because  he  said  she  might 
never  get  it  back.  He  went  to  New  York, 
and  about  the  last  thing  he  said  was  that  if 
he  could  realize  anything  from  his  property 
there,  he  would  give  it  to  Robert  Morris  for 


Brinton  Eliot 

the  army.  He's  become  an  ardent  Whig, 
and  father  says  he  used  to  be  so  conservative. 
The  British  took  New  York  three  weeks 
after  he  got  back,  and  he  has  been  shut  up 
there  ever  since." 

Betty  picked  up  the  king  of  diamonds  and 
folded  the  card  mechanically. 

"  Polly,"  said  she,  "  how  much  did  Brinton 
know?" 

"  He  knew  Uncle  William  had  lost  lots," 
said  Polly,  "  and  that's  why  he  was  so  anxious 
to  go  to  the  West  Indies  himself.  He  told 
me  that  he  thought  he  could  buy  and  sell  for 
his  father  better  than  any  one  else.  Brinton 
worked  monstrous  hard,  and  knew  a  good 
deal  about  it." 

Betty  tossed  the  king  of  diamonds  into  the 
fire. 

"  I  don't  see  why  Brinton  never  told  me," 
she  said  slowly. 

"  Why,  I  suppose  he  didn't  want  to  worry 
you,  Betty." 

"  He  told  you." 

"  Well,  I  don't  count." 

"  Oh ! " 

For  a  full  minute  there  was  silence.  Then 
Betty  said,  "  You  know  when  Brinton  came 
to  say  good-by,  he  came  in  a  most  amazing 
hurry." 

"  Yes,"  said  Polly,  "  the  ship  was  going 
sooner  than  he  expected.  He  had  no  time 
144 


At   Philadelphia 

to  let  us  know.     He  had  a  four  days'  trip  in 
the  coach  as  it  was." 

"  Polly,"  said  Betty,  "  he  didn't  see  me  ! " 

"  Betty  Allen !  He  rushed  right  out  to 
Westwood." 

"  I  know  he  did,  but  how  could  I  tell  he 
was  coming?  I  was  at  Cliveden,  and  he 
couldn't  wait.  Do  you  know — I'm  not  so 
sorry  cannon-balls  went  through  Cliveden." 

"Betty!" 

"Oh!  I  know  I  shouldn't  say  that.  He 
saw  mother.  I  could  never  find  out  just 
what  was  said.  Mother  can  be  evasive  some 
times.  Margaret  Winthrop,  I  am  as  certain 
as  I  am  that  I  sit  here  that  mother  found  out 
that  morning  that  Mr.  Eliot  had  lost  nearly 
everything." 

"  But,  Betty,  if  she  did  ?  " 

"  Well,  mother  has  ideas." 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment,  and  then 
Betty  said  suddenly,  "  Margaret  Winthrop, 
I'm  thankful  there's  something  to  do  in 
this  town.  I'll  go  to  the  assemblies,  and 
General  Howe's,  and  the  Bonds',  and  the 
Shippens',  and  the  Auchmutys',  and  the 
Willings',  and  everywhere,  and  try  to  forget. 
If  I  didn't  — " 

"  Lackaday !  Betty,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Win 
throp,  sailing  into  the  room,  in  her  great 
hoop  of  brocade.  "Tears  in  the  eyes! 
What's  to  do?" 

L  145 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  I  suppose  it's  the  wind,"  said  Betty,  laugh 
ing.  "  It's  quite  cold  when  one  is  driving." 

"Tis  amazing  cold  for  the  season,"  said 
Mrs.  Winthrop.  "  Lud !  what  a  season! 
The  town  has  broken  out  with  redcoats  like 
a  man  with  the  small-pox.  More  than  one 
Whig  has  caught  the  plague,  and  'twill  not 
be  Canary  wine  or  clove-gillyflower  that  will 
cure  them,  but  gunpowder  and  blood-letting." 

"  Mother,"  exclaimed  Polly,  "  here  comes 
Major  Andre!" 

It  was  true.  Booted  and  spurred,  his 
sword  by  his  side,  bright  in  his  scarlet  and 
gold,  fresh,  high-colored,  laughing  and  talk 
ing,  the  adjutant-general  of  the  British  army 
was  coming  up  the  steps  of  the  porch,  and 
Colonel  Tarleton  with  him.  When  Mrs. 
Winthrop's  negro,  in  his  murrey  and  blue 
livery,  had  announced,  "  Maj'  An'ry.  Cunnel 
Ta'ton,"  they  entered  the  drawing-room. 

"  Mrs.  Winthrop,"  said  Andre,  bowing, 
"  Sir  William  Howe  presents  his  compli 
ments,  and  begs  me  to  say  that  he  will  do 
himself  the  honor  of  calling  upon  you  this 
afternoon." 

"  Lud !  major,"  said  Mrs.  Winthrop,  with 
a  stately  courtesy.  "  My  compliments  to  Sir 
William." 

Andre  presented  Tarleton  to  all  the  ladies, 
and  then,  leaving  Tarleton  to  make  himself 
agreeable  to  Mrs.  Winthrop  and  to  Mistress 
146 


At   Philadelphia 

Winthrop,  he  devoted  himself  to  Miss 
Allen. 

"  Miss  Allen,"  said  he,  "  won't  you  give  me 
some  suggestions  for  the  scenery  in  the 
'  Constant  Couple  '  ?  The  love-scene  comes 
in  the  second  act.  What  do  you  think  would 
be  pretty?" 

"  Who's  to  be  the  lover?"  inquired  Betty. 

"  Major  Bingham." 

"Oh!  Well,  I  don't  know.  You  might 
have  Market  Street." 

"  But  Bingham  can't  make  love  in  Market 
Street ! " 

"He  can't  make  love  anywhere ! "  said 
Betty,  decidedly. 

"That's  rather  severe,"  said  Andre,  laugh 
ing.  "  I  hope  we  are  not  all  in  the  same 
class.  Yesterday  you  wouldn't  admit  we 
could  fight.  If  we  can't  make  love,  then  I 
suppose  there's  nothing  left  for  us  but  to  lay 
down  our  arms  and  surrender." 

"  Past  question  that's  what  you'll  do  in  the 
end,"  said  Betty,  laughing,  "  so  the  sooner 
you  get  in  practice,  major,  the  better." 

"  A  neat  fling,  by  the  Lord  Harry !  You're 
as  stanch  a  \Vhig  as  ever  you  were,  aren't 
you?" 

"  Of  course  I  am.  What's  happened  to 
change  me  ? " 

"Well  — I  don't  know." 

"Well, /don't  know." 


Brinton  Eliot 

Half  an  hour  later  Miss  Allen  in  her  blue 
fur-lined  cardinal,  and  Andre  and  Tarleton 
in  their  scarlet  coats,  with  cocked  hats  un 
der  their  arms,  walked  through  the  white- 
columned  door  and  down  the  steps.  Miss 
Allen's  highly-varnished  chaise,  with  pow 
dered  coachman,  and  big  bay  with  silver- 
mounted  harness,  was  in  waiting. 

"You  won't  forget  about  Thursday  night, 
will  you  ?  "  said  Andre,  as  he  handed  her  into 
the  chaise. 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Betty.  "  I've  promised  you 
the  minuet,  and  the  colonel  the  contra-dance. 
Good-by,  major.  Good-by,  colonel."  And 
the  bay  horse  whirled  the  chaise  rapidly 
away. 

"  Egad !  "  said  Andre,  "without  claptrap  one 
can  say  truly  that  she  is  the  most  attractive 
girl  in  Philadelphia,  though  the  town  is  full 
of  charming  women.  Ods!  here  comes 
Bingham.  My  buck,  you're  a  sly  dog !  " 

"  How  so  ?  "  said  Bingham,  laughing. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Andre, "  we  are  very  innocent, 
are  we  not,  eh,  Tarleton  ?  You  were  very 
fine  at  the  *  Bunch  of  Grapes '  with  your 
toast  —  *  I  give  you  Miss  Allen  ! '  Bah  !  my 
lady  will  none  of  you." 

"  Indeed  ? " 

"  Yes.  She  says  you  can  neither  act  nor 
make  love,  and,  in  fact,  in  her  estimation 
there  seems  to  be  very  little  that  you  can  do. 
148 


At    Philadelphia 

When  she  found  you  were  the  lover  in  the 
second  act  of  the  '  Constant  Couple,'  she 
suggested  that  the  scene  be  laid  in  Market 
Street!  Ton  honor,  anything  is  good  enough 
for  you  apparently." 

"  Damn  it !  What  sense  have  you  and 
Tarleton,  standing  there  and  grinning  like  a 
pair  of  baboons?  I  know  Mistress  Allen 
better  than  you  do.  In  a  fortnight  you  will 
be  wiser  than  you  are  now-,  perhaps.  Sir 
William  has  quartered  me  at  Westwood. 
What  do  you  think  of  that,  eh  ? " 

"  The  deuce  he  has !  "  said  Andre. 

"  I  wager  a  sovereign  you  quartered  your 
self  and  wheedled  Sir  William,"  said  Tarleton, 
laughing. 

Bingham  smiled  and  whipped  out  his  snuff 
box.  "  Have  a  pinch  ? "  said  he,  as  they 
walked  down  Second  Street.  They  helped 
themselves,  Andre  quickly  and  gracefully, 
and  Tarleton  spilling  snuff  on  his  waistcoat 
in  his  usual  fashion.  Bingham  left  them  at 
Howe's  headquarters,  and  mounting  his  horse, 
set  out  for  Westwood. 


149 


CHAPTER   III 

IN     WHICH     MR.     KEAYNE     ALLEN     SPEAKS     HIS 
MIND 

IN  the  library  at  Westwood  the  candles 
were  lighted,  and  a  tall,  finely-built  man, 
dressed  in  cherry-colored  velvet,  was  pacing 
abstractedly  from  one  mahogany  bookcase  to 
another.  He  stopped  his  walk  long  enough 
to  ring  a  bell,  and  then  went  on  again.  The 
servant  who  answered  the  summons  stood 
motionless  for  some  moments  in  the  door 
way,  but  finally  the  master  of  the  house 
looked  up  and  perceived  him.  "  When  my 
daughter  comes,"  said  he,  abruptly,  "say  I 
wish  to  see  her  here."  The  man  bowed  and 
departed.  He  had  scarcely  done  so  when 
Mrs.  Allen  came  in. 

"  Keayne,"  said  she,  "Sir  William  Howe 
wants  to  quarter  Major  Bingham  here.  I 
have  consented.  You've  no  great  objection, 
have  you  ? " 

"  Od's  life !  if  you  have  consented,  I  sup 
pose  that  settles  the  matter.  I  saw  enough 
of  the  fellow  before  the  war  to  give  me  small 
liking  for  him.  He's  a  lout  and  worse !  " 

150 


Mr.  Keayne  Allen  speaks  his  Mind 

"  Keayne  !  He's  the  grandson  of  the  Earl 
of  Harborough." 

"  The  earl  be  damned  !  " 

"  My  dear,  you're  becoming  an  arrant 
Whig." 

"  Not  at  all,  Lucy,  but  I  take  it  I  know  a 
man  when  I  see  one.  However,  I'm  willing 
to  oblige  Sir  William." 

Mr.  Allen  went  to  a  window  and  peered 
out  into  the  gathering  gloom. 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  you  are  very  rest 
less,"  said  Mrs.  Allen.  "  You've  done  nothing 
but  walk  about." 

"Judge  Shippen  and  Edward  are  coming 
to  sup  with  us,"  said  he,  without  paying  any 
attention  to  her  remark. 

"  Are  they  ?  Keayne,  in  such  cases  I 
think  I  am  entitled  to  at  least  an  hour's 
notice." 

"  You  are,  my  dear.     You  are." 

"  But  I  seldom  have  it." 

"  True  enough.     Quite  true." 

"  Keayne,  what  is  the  matter  ?  I  don't 
believe  you  know  what  you're  saying.  You 
are  so  restless  that  you  make  me  nervous. 
Pray  sit  down." 

Mr.  Allen  sat  down  impatiently  and  tapped 
his  foot  on  the  floor. 

"  I  don't  see  why  Betty  doesn't  come," 
said  he. 

"  There's  nothing  remarkable  in  that,"  said 


Brinton  Eliot 

Mrs.  Allen.     "  She  went  to  the  Winthrops'. 
It  is  not  six  o'clock  yet." 

At  that  moment  they  heard  a  carriage 
coming  up  the  drive. 

"There  she  is  at  last!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Allen. 
"  Lucy,  I  want  to  see  Betty  here  alone  for  a 
few  minutes  if  you  don't  mind." 

"  Why,  Keayne,  what  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing.  Nothing  at  all.  I  simply 
want  to  see  —  ah !  Well,  what  is  it  ?  " 

"Judge  Shippen  and  Mr.  Edward  Shippen 
are  in  the  drawing-room,  sir,"  replied  Bradford. 

"  The  deuce  !  Say  to  Judge  Shippen  and 
to  Mr.  Shippen  that  Mrs.  Allen  and  myself 
will  be  with  them  directly." 

Bradford  departed. 

"  Keayne,"  said  Mrs.  Allen,  "  I  must  say 
that  I  do  not  understand  —  " 

"  No,  no,  of  course  not.  My  dear,  I  want 
you  to  entertain  Edward.  Judge  Shippen 
and  I  have  a  business  matter  to  talk  over 
before  supper." 

They  left  the  library,  but  in  a  very  short 
time  Mr.  Allen  returned  in  company  with 
the  judge.  Judge  Shippen  was  a  portly  per 
son,  with  a  prominent  nose  and  sharp  gray 
eyes.  He  was  not  a  Whig,  but  it  might  have 
been  unwise  to  call  him  a  Tory  to  his  face. 
However,  if  there  was  a  question  about  his 
politics,  there  was  none  about  his  ability. 
He  was  a  man  of  means  and  of  brains. 
152 


Mr.  Keayne  Allen  speaks  his  Mind 

"  I  think,"  said  he,  seating  himself,  "  that 
the  decline  in  the  value  of  paper  money  is 
alarming.  To  make  prices  more  stable,  might 
we  not  pledge  ourselves  to  take  the  currency 
at  the  value  it  had  before  the  Declaration  of 
Independence  ?  " 

"Perhaps  so,"  said  Mr.  Allen.  "But  to 
come  to  the  matter  in  hand.  I  —  of  course 
—  I  have  not  yet  had  an  opportunity  of  ex 
plaining  the  affair  to  Betty.  However,  I 
trust  Betty  will  acquiesce.  She  is  somewhat 
headstrong,  but  then  —  " 

"  Keayne,  if  children  are  properly  brought 
up,  they  obey  their  parents." 

"  Of  course.  I  am  sure  Betty  thinks  highly 
of  Edward.  He  is  a  splendid  fellow." 

"  He  has  excellent  habits,  and  has  always 
been  a  dutiful  son.  He  admires  your 
daughter,  and  will  be  a  devoted  husband. 
We  are  planning  well  for  our  children. 
The  point  is  past  question.  To  come  now 
to  finance." 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Allen,  somewhat  nervously, 
"just  now  I  am  in  straits.  I  have  property 
enough,  but  I  can't  realize,  and  those  notes 
are  due  in  ten  days." 

" Quite  true,"said  Judge Shippen.  "  Keayne, 
the  plain  facts  are  that  I  desire  to  secure  a 
wife  for  Edward  who  can  fill  her  position  as 
my  daughter-in-law  in  a  fitting  manner.  I 
think  your  girl  can.  Provided  you  display 


Brinton  Eliot 

a  little  firmness  I  shall  be  under  obligations 
to  you,  and  in  that  case  you  need  not  be  un 
easy  about  the  ,£10,000.  I  will  hold  your 
notes  until  you  are  able  to  meet  them." 

Mr.  Allen  looked  much  relieved. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said  quickly.  "  You  can 
understand  that  I  am  anxious  that  Betty 
should  know  nothing  of  our  financial  affairs. 
As  I  have  said,  she  is  somewhat  headstrong, 
and  then  she  has  romantic  notions.  It  would 
make  it  more  difficult  for  me  to — you  under 
stand,  don't  you  ? " 

"  Oh,  of  course,  Keayne,  of  course,"  said 
the  judge,  taking  a  pinch  of  snuff.  "You 
and  I  are  much  too  old  for  sentiment.  Senti 
ment  ?  Bah !  No  man  who  has  reached  five 
and  forty  should  have  any.  This  Whig  revolt 
against  England  is  a  case  in  point.  It  may 
be  good  sentiment,  but  it's  bad  finance." 

Mr.  Allen,  who  had  begun  to  reply,  stopped 
short,  for  Betty,  in  her  blue  cardinal,  stood  in 
the  doorway. 

"  Father,"  said  she,  "  Bradford  said  you 
wished  to  see  me  directly." 

"  Come  in,  dear,"  said  Mr.  Allen.  "  Here 
is  Judge  Shippen." 

The  judge  rose  and  bowed  in  his  usual 
lofty  fashion.  Betty  inclined  her  head,  and 
then  stood  erect,  looking  inquiringly  at  her 
father.  Mr.  Allen  seemed  slightly  perplexed. 
He  glanced  quickly  at  the  judge,  and  the 


Mr.  Keayne  Allen  speaks  his  Mind 

judge's  glance  in  return  said  plainly,  "  No 
time  like  the  present.  Go  ahead !  " 

"  Betty,"  said  Mr.  Allen,  "  Judge  Shippen 
and  I  have  been  planning  for  you  and  for 
Edward.  We  both  desire  your  happiness 
above  all  things." 

Betty  seemed  to  shiver ;  perhaps  the  long 
drive  had  chilled  her. 

"  My  dear,"  remarked  Mr.  Allen,  "  are  you 
cold  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Betty,  but  her  voice  was  faint. 

"  Edward  is  a  splendid  fellow,"  continued 
Mr.  Allen.  "  He  loves  you,  and  I  am  most 
anxious  that  you  should  marry  him." 

"Why?" 

Mr.  Allen  was  somewhat  embarrassed. 
Judge  Shippen,  who  had  his  own  ideas  of 
the  duty  of  children  to  parents,  spoke  in 
a  manner  which  he  considered  fitting. 

"  Mistress  Allen,"  said  he,  "  in  a  matter  of 
this  kind  a  daughter  should  never  question 
her  father's  wisdom.  It  is  his  duty  to  decide  ; 
it  is  hers  to  obey." 

In  the  Shippen  mansion  parental  authority 
was  not  to  be  called  in  question,  and  the  judge 
was  its  apotheosis. 

Betty  drew  herself  up  and  looked  him  in 
the  face. 

"  Suppose  I  refuse,  Judge  Shippen  ?  " 

This  was  an  unfortunate  thing  to  say.  It 
contained  a  challenge.  Judge  Shippen  was 


Brinton  Eliot 

surprised.  Had  not  Mr.  Keayne  Allen  dis 
tinctly  said  that  he  desired  his  daughter  to 
marry  Edward?  Moreover  there  was  an 
other  side  to  the  matter  which  Miss  Allen 
apparently  ignored.  From  the  beginning 
there  had  been  Shippens,  and  of  a  Philadel 
phia  without  Shippens  the  mind  of  man 
could  form  no  conception.  Had  not  the  first 
Edward  been  the  "  biggest  man  with  the  big 
gest  house  and  the  biggest  coach  "  in  town  ? 
And  the  name,  Shippen,  —  a  thing  glorious 
and  from  the  gods,  —  was  it  to  be  put  on  or  off 
like  a  glove?  The  challenge  brought  Judge 
Shippen  from  force  of  habit  into  court. 

"  In  that  case,"  said  he,  in  the  firm  even 
tone  which  he  used  on  the  bench,  "  I  should 
mark  my  dissatisfaction,  and  on  your  father's 
account  I  advise  you  not  to  do  so." 

Betty  glanced  quickly  at  her  father,  much 
pained  and  quite  bewildered,  for  Mr.  Allen 
was  suffering  apparently.  In  his  eyes  there 
was  a  strange  pleading  which  pierced  her. 

"I  —  I  must  have  time  to  think,"  she  said 
faintly. 

"  Of  course,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Allen, 
rapidly. 

She  turned  to  leave  the  room,  but  every 
thing  whirled  about  her  and  grew  black. 
She  would  have  fallen  if  her  father  had  not 
caught  her  in  his  arms. 

156 


CHAPTER   IV 

WITH    FRANKLIN    AT    PASSY 

ON  the  following  morning  a  cabriolet 
rolled  rapidly  through  the  village  of  Passy, 
two  miles  from  Paris,  and  into  the  courtyard 
of  the  Hotel  de  Valentinois,  a  large,  white 
building  which  M.  de  Chaumont,  its  owner, 
had  given  to  the  American  Embassy  rent 
free,  —  no  small  item  to  an  embassy,  which  at 
that  time  was  never  troubled  by  a  surplus  of 
cash,  not  knowing  frequently  from  where  the 
next  forty  francs  were  to  come.  The  court 
yard  was  crowded.  There,  with  fine  bay 
horses,  bewigged  coachman  and  powdered 
lackeys  up  between  the  springs,  stood  the 
gilded  gondola  calash  of  Madame  la  Mare- 
chale  de  Luxembourg;  there  was  the  scarlet 
and  gold  sedan  chair  of  the  Comtesse  de 
Tesse,  the  varnished  cabriolet  of  the  Cheva 
lier  de  Bernis,  the  coach  of  the  Duchesse 
d'Anville,  and  a  dozen  others  with  lackeys  in 
bright  liveries.  The  cabriolet  in  question 
stopped,  and  Brinton  Eliot  alighted.  He 
wore  a  blue  coat  embroidered  in  silver,  a  black 
cocked  hat,  black  satin  small-clothes,  silk 


Brinton  Eliot 

stockings,  shoes  with  buckles  of  cut  steel,  and 
his  hair  was  carefully  powdered.  Two  gentle 
men  were  talking  on  the  steps  of  the  mansion ; 
the  one  with  his  back  to  the  courtyard  wore 
a  black  cassock  and  a  round  wig,  while  the 
other  was  dressed  in  light  gray  with  steel 
buttons.  They  were  the  Abbe  de  St.  Pierre 
and  Mr.  Silas  Deane  of  Connecticut.  Brin 
ton  recognized  the  latter  at  once  and  went  up 
to  him. 

"  I  trust  you've  not  forgotten  me,  Mr. 
Deane,"  said  Eliot. 

"  Why  !  You're  William  Eliot's  son,"  ex 
claimed  Deane,  shaking  his  hand  cordially. 
"  I  confess  I'm  surprised  to  see  you  here. 
Monsieur  1'Abbe,  this  is  Mr.  Eliot,  of  New 
York." 

The  abbe  bowed  to  Brinton  and  inquired, 
"  Are  you  for  Gluck  or  Piccini,  monsieur  ? " 

"  Well,  really,"  said  Brinton,  "  I  don't  know. 
I  never  heard  of  either  of  them." 

"  Ah,  Mon  Dieu  I  You  should  be  for  Gluck, 
monsieur.  His  music  is  to  that  of  Piccini  as 
is  the  nightingale  to  the  mosquito." 

And  with  a  slight  shrug  of  the  shoulders 
the  Abbe  de  St.  Pierre  entered  the  Hotel  de 
Valentinois. 

"  I  trust  I've  not  offended  him,"  remarked 
Brinton. 

"Oh,  no,"  replied  Deane.  "That  is  his 
way.  There  is  a  war  here  between  two  mu- 
158 


With    Franklin    at    Passy 

sicians,  and  every  one  takes  one  side  or  the 
other.  I  have  no  time  to  think  of  it  myself. 
When  did  I  last  see  you  ?  I  cannot  recall 
the  year,  but  I  remember  very  well  dining 
at  your  house." 

UI  think  it  was  in  the  summer  of  '71," 
said  Brinton.  "  I  was  in  college  then." 

"  True.  How  much  has  happened  since  '7 1 ! 
These  are  dark  days,  Mr.  Eliot.  The  British 
are  in  New  York,  and  Burgoyne  is  marching 
on  Ticonderoga.  Mr.  Frankiin  is  filled  with 
terrible  anxiety,  but  he  keeps  as  brave  a  front 
as  ever  a  man  kept  How  do  vou  happen  to 
be  here?* 

"  I'm  on  my  way  back  from  India.  My 
ship  is  at  Marseilles,  and  I  came  —  " 

41 A  ship !    You  have  a  ship  of  your  own  ?" 

"  Yes.     The  Flamand,  father's  'ship." 

"  Mr.  Eliot  will  you  put  that  ship  at  the 
service  of  the  United  States?  " 

"  Gad  !     I  should  say  I  would ! " 

"  Come  with  me." 

They  entered  the  Hotel  de  Valentinois, 
and  in  a  few  moments  were  in  a  large  square 
room,  finished  in  the  white  and  gold  fashion 
of  Louis  Seize,  and  full  of  people.  There 
V.MS  M.  Pnnck  :-v.cke.  editor  of  the  M'-:r ::<;'•:  j-: 
France,  a  large  man  in  a  red  coat  with  but 
tons  two  inches  in  diameter,  on  which  were 
painted  portraits  of  the  twelve  Caesars,  talk 
ing  to  the  little  Abbe  Morellet  and  M.  Fal- 
'59 


Brinton  Eliot 

conet,  the  king's  physician.  The  Comtesse 
de  Tesse,  in  her  blue  silk  caraco  with  enor 
mous  white  flounces,  a  long  cane  in  her  hand, 
and  her  hair  dressed  high  en  rouleaux  with 
curls  and  plumes,  was  disputing  the  merits 
of  Gluck  and  Piccini  with  the  Abbe  de  St. 
Pierre.  The  Marechale  de  Luxembourg, 
gorgeous  in  green  and  gold,  wore  on  her 
powdered  head  a  huge  hat  of  black  lace  with 
lofty  red  plumes,  and  carried  on  her  arm 
a  delicate  little  work-bag,  in  which  were 
her  patch-box  and  rouge-pot,  the  last  novel, 
and  the  latest  arietta.  She  was  telling 
the  Comtesse  de  Boufflers  that  in  her  opin 
ion  it  was  outrageous  for  the  queen  to  revive 
the  post  of  superintendent  of  the  household 
in  favor  of  the  Princesse  de  Lamballe.  The 
Marquis  de  Voisnenon,  an  old  gallant  who 
wore  a  wig  a  la  brigadtere  to  make  him  look 
younger,  was  showing  his  work-bag,  with 
lozenges,  bonbons,  snuff,  and  scent,  to  the 
Duchesse  d'Anville  who  was  dressed  in  a 
glittering  polonaise,  with  an  embroidered 
apron  of  Indian  muslin,  wearing  over  her 
left  shoulder  a  belt  called  the  adjustement  a 
la  Jeanne  dArc —  what  the  Maid  of  Orleans 
had  to  do  with  it  Heaven  alone  knew.  The 
Chevalier  de  Bernis,  in  gold-colored  justau- 
corps,  was  making  love  to  the  Marquise  de 
Vintimille;  the  Comtesse  d'Houdetot,  sur 
rounded  by  men,  was  planning  2,  fete-champ- 

1 60 


With    Franklin    at    Passy 

etre ;  and  there  were  sixty  or  seventy  more, 
priests,  men  of  letters,  courtiers,  and  women 
of  rank,  who  had  come  to  do  homage  to  the 
Philadelphia  printer,  the  Pennsylvania  politi 
cian,  the  great  American  whose  fame  filled 
the  Continent,  and  who  had  at  his  feet  the 
Sorbonne,  the  salons,  the  court,  and  the  world 
Parisian. 

Through  this  plumed  and  perfumed  crowd 
Mr.  Silas  Deane  and  Brinton  Eliot  made 
their  way.  Deane  opened  the  door  of  the 
adjoining  apartment,  and  they  went  in.  This 
room  was  not  more  than  half  the  size  of  the 
other.  In  one  corner  was  an  electrical  appa 
ratus,  and  in  another  a  small  printing-press, 
the  type  of  which  had  been  made  in  the 
house  by  servants,  and  which  the  philoso 
pher  used  to  print  those  amusing  little  essays 
which  he  wrote  for  Madame  Brillon,  Madame 
Helvetius,  and  other  friends.  There  was  a 
long  gilt  table  covered  with  papers,  and  there 
were  papers  scattered  over  the  floor,  for 
Franklin  was  never  orderly  and  never  pre 
tended  to  be.  But  Brinton  Eliot,  who  was 
looking  at  Mr.  Benjamin  Franklin,  noticed 
none  of  these  things.  He  saw  a  rather  large 
man  with  rounded  shoulders,  quite  corpulent, 
seated  in  a  chair,  on  the  arms  of  which  his 
hands  rested  in  a  manner  apparently  indo 
lent,  and  dressed  as  plainly  as  possible  in  a 
brown  coat,  vest  and  breeches  of  like  color, 
M  161 


Brinton   Eliot 

white  stockings,  neckstock,  and  wrist-ruffles, 
and  shoes  with  dark  buckles.  Hisforehead  was 
bald,  his  long  gray  hair  fell  on  his  shoulders, 
and  his  features  wore  their  accustomed  expres 
sion  of  serenity  and  repose,  but  in  his  eyes  the 
twinkle  of  humor  had  been  obscured  by  a  shade 
of  sadness.  It  was  one  of  the  dark  days. 

"  Mr.  Franklin,"  said  Deane,  "  here's  Will 
iam  Eliot's  son.  He's  got  a  ship."  Mr. 
Franklin  smiled  and  started  to  rise. 

"Eh!"  said  he.  "When  you  get  to  be 
my  age,  I  hope  you  won't  have  the  gout. 
I'm  glad  to  see  you,"  he  added,  taking  Brin- 
ton's  hand.  "  I've  known  your  father  for 
many  years.  Have  you  ever  had  a  brother  ?  " 

"  No.     I  am  the  only  child." 

"In  that  case  I  think  I  have  met  you 
before.  You  would  not  remember  it,  for  you 
were  quite  young.  Your  mother  presented 
you  to  me.  You  had  a  plum  in  your  hand." 

"  I  hope,  Mr.  Franklin,  that  I  was  polite 
enough  to  give  you  the  plum." 

"  If  my  memory  serves  me  rightly,  you  ate 
the  plum  and  gave  me  the  stone.  However, 
at  your  age  I  should  have  done  the  same. 
Mr.  Deane  says  you  have  a  ship.  Let  us  all 
sit  down  and  talk  about  it." 

They  did  so.  Brinton  explained  how  it 
had  come  about  that  his  ship  was  at  Mar 
seilles,  and  why  he  had  come  to  Paris.  He 
added  that  since  Mr.  Deane  had  said  that 
162 


With    Franklin    at    Passy 

the  Flamand  could  be  of  service  to  the  United 
States,  he  put  the  ship  and  himself  entirely 
in  Mr.  Franklin's  hands.  Mr.  Franklin  lis 
tened  quietly,  and  as  Brinton  finished,  a  ser 
vant  in  livery  entered  through  a  side  door 
and  presented  a  note  to  the  ambassador  with 
the  remark,  "  Madame  Helvetius,  monsieur." 
Franklin  took  the  note,  and  when  the  man 
had  gone  halfway  across  the  apartment,  said 
leisurely,  "  Stay  a  moment."  Having  read 
the  note,  he  turned  to  the  gilt  table,  took  a 
quill,  and  wrote  slowly,  "  Mr.  Franklin  never 
forgets  any  party  at  which  Madame  Helve 
tius  is  expected.  He  even  believes  that  if 
he  were  engaged  to  go  to  Paradise  this 
morning,  he  would  pray  for  permission  to 
remain  on  earth  until  half-past  one,  to  re 
ceive  the  embrace  promised  him  at  the  Tur- 
gots'."  Sealing  this  leisurely,  he  handed  it 
to  the  lackey,  who  bowed  and  departed. 
Then  he  turned  to  Brinton. 

"  Mr.  Eliot,"  said  he,  "  since  you  have  put 
yourself  in  my  hands,  you  probably  have 
some  desire  to  know  what  I  wish  you  to  do. 
I  cannot  explain  that  now.  It  will  be  neces 
sary  for  me  to  see  Beaumarchais  first.  Some 
things  we  manage  very  quietly.  And  '  a 
word  to  the  wise  is  enough,  as  Poor  Richard 
says,'  "  he  added,  smiling. 

"  You  may  count  on  me  for  that,  Mr. 
Franklin." 

163 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  Can  you  come  at  four  o'clock  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"  Beaumarchais  will  be  here  then." 

"  Mr.  Franklin,  are  things  going  as  badly 
as  Mr.  Deane  seems  to  think  ?  "  inquired 
Brinton ;  for  Deane  had  left  the  room. 

The  shade  of  sadness  came  again  into 
Franklin's  eyes. 

"  Mr.  Eliot,"  said  he,  slowly,  "  at  any  mo 
ment  I  may  hear  that  I  have  neither  a  coun 
try  nor  a  flag." 

Then  rising,  with  another  twinge  of  gout, 
he  added,  "  I  must  go  to  see  the  good  people 
who  have  come  to  visit  me.  You  can  reach 
the  courtyard  comfortably  through  that  little 
door." 

"  I  feel  distressed,  under  the  circumstances, 
to  think  I  have  detained  you,  Mr.  Franklin." 

"  Don't  worry,  my  friend.  The  business 
of  the  United  States  always  takes  precedence 
of  the  French  nobility." 

And  as  Franklin  opened  the  main  door 
and  stepped  into  the  salon  where  the  world 
waited  to  do  him  honor,  Brinton  heard  the 
chorus  of  the  glittering  throng,  — "  Ah, 
Franklin !  How  is  the  cause  of  liberty  pro 
gressing  ? "  —  and  he  heard  likewise  the 
voice  of  the  philosopher,  as  cheery  as  though 
dark  days  were  but  dreams,  "  Ca  ira,  mes 
amis!  Qa  ira!" 


164 


CHAPTER   V 

IN    WHICH    BRINTON    MEETS    BEAUMARCHAIS 

BRINTON  ELIOT  drove  back  to  his  hotel  in 
the  Place  du  Palais  Royal  where  he  dined. 
A  short  walk  in  the  Tuileries  garden  and 
the  Place  Louis  XV  followed,  but  four 
o'clock  found  him  again  at  Passy. 

Once  inside  the  Hotel  de  Valentinois,  a 
servant  conducted  him  to  a  small  room,  the 
furniture  of  which  was  covered  with  green 
tapestry,  and  left  him.  There  he  remained 
for  some  twenty  minutes  before  the  man  re 
turned  and  brought  him  to  Mr.  Franklin's 
apartment.  The  ambassador  was  seated  in 
his  accustomed  manner,  talking  with  a  very 
elegant  gentleman  who  wore  his  wig  a  cato- 
gan,  whose  neckstock  and  wrist-ruffles  were 
of  costly  lace,  whose  cherry-colored  coat  and 
white  satin  waistcoat  were  embroidered  in 
gold,  and  whose  brilliant  attire  was  com 
pleted  by  white  satin  small-clothes,  white 
silk  stockings,  and  red-heeled  shoes  with 
oval  silver  buckles.  This  man  was  a  mer 
chant  and  a  millionaire ;  he  was  also  a  musi 
cian,  a  dramatist,  a  song  writer,  a  man  of 
165 


Brinton  Eliot 

fashion,  a  courtier,  a  ship-owner ;  and  he  had 
been  by  turns  a  watch-maker,  a  manufacturer, 
a  publisher,  a  comic  writer,  a  secret  agent  for 
Louis  XV  in  England,  and  a  pamphleteer. 
He  was  even  then,  amid  the  stress  of  the 
immense  effort  he  was  making  to  aid  Amer 
ica,  writing  his  "  Marriage  of  Figaro  "  which 
was  one  day  to  be  the  forerunner  of  revolu 
tion  in  France. 

"M.  de  Beaumarchais,  Monsieur  Eliot," 
said  Mr.  Franklin.  Beaumarchais  rose  and 
shook  hands  cordially  with  Brinton  in  the 
English  fashion.  Mr.  Franklin  rose,  also, 
said  a  few  words  to  the  effect  that  he  had 
talked  over  everything  with  M.  de  Beaumar 
chais,  and  that  Beaumarchais  would  give 
Brinton  all  the  details,  and  begging  them 
both  to  excuse  him  as  he  had  an  appoint 
ment,  left  the  room.  He  was  going  to  a  sup 
per  in  his  honor  at  the  Princesse  de  Rohan's ; 
for  Mr.  Franklin,  in  spite  of  himself,  supped 
out  six  nights  a  week. 

After  a  few  minutes  of  conversation  which 
was  very  agreeable  but  of  no  moment,  Beau 
marchais  came  down  to  business. 

"  During  the  past  ten  months,"  said  he,  "  I 
have  sent  to  America  eight  ships  with  sup 
plies  worth  six  million  francs.  To  do  this 
under  the  eyes  of  Lord  Stormont,  the  British 
Ambassador,  is,  as  you  may  imagine,  a  diffi 
cult  and  dangerous  matter." 
166 


Brinton    meets    Beaumarchais 

"  I  should  think  so !  " 

"  Stormont  is  —  ah,  mon  Dicu  !  Stormont 
has  one  hundred  eyes.  But  to  continue. 
These  transactions  are  done  in  the  name  of 
Roderique  Hortalez  &  Company,  my  business 
house  in  Paris,  which  I  personally  conduct. 
You  have  seen  it,  monsieur  ?  No  ?  Very 
good.  It  shall  be  seen  by  you  to-morrow. 
To  it  the  French  government  pays  one  mil 
lion  francs,  two  million  francs,  and  so  on." 

"  And  this  money  is  used  in  buying  arms 
and  ammunition  for  America  ?  " 

"  Exactly  so.  But  it  is  not  the  French 
government  alone  which  pays.  I  myself  have 
advanced  one  million,  two  million,  and  so  on. 
At  this  moment  the  American  Congress 
owes  me  two  million  francs.  Ah !  I  am  not 
in  so  great  a  hurry  for  the  money." 

"  Gad  !  "  said  Brinton,  "  it's  amazing  good 
of  you  to  loan  it." 

"  No,  no.  What  will  I  not  do  for  liberty  ? 
Your  people  are  a  great  people,  trying  to  be 
free,  and  if  I  aid  in  that,  I  shall  not  have 
lived  in  vain,  eh  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure  they'll  all  appreciate  what  you're 
doing." 

u  Eh  bien  /  I  have  yet  to  receive  the 
thanks  of  the  American  Congress.  Perhaps 
it  is  because  M.  Arthur  Lee  writes  them  con 
tinually  that  I  am  a  fraud,  and  that  the  French 
government  intends  all  the  supplies,  even  the 
167 


Brinton  Eliot 

two  millions  for  which  it  has  not  paid,  as  a 
free  gift." 

"  That's  outrageous  !  "  exclaimed   Brinton. 

"  Ah !  "  said  Beaumarchais,  shrugging  his 
shoulders,  "  such  is  the  world  !  To  continue. 
The  French  Ministry,  monsieur,  know  all 
about  Roderique  Hortalez  &  Company,  and 
at  the  same  time  they  know  nothing  at 
all  about  Roderique  Hortalez  &  Company. 
You  understand?  Therefore  it  is  not  easy 
for  my  ships  to  leave  port.  Stormont  —  ce 
diable  cThomme  !  Once,  twice,  fifty  times  he 
has  discovered  their  destination.  Mon  Dieit  ! 
at  what  speed  he  drives  to  Versailles !  What 
protests !  What  language  !  Vergennes,  the 
fox !  He  is  naturally  amazed.  '  Roderique 
Hortalez  &  Company?  Ships  to  America? 
Impossible  ! '  And  the  ships  are  stopped." 

"  What  do  you  do  then,  monsieur  ?  " 

"  Many  things.  I  unload  my  vessels  at  one 
port;  I  reload  them  at  another.  I  change 
their  names ;  I  make  fictitious  sales.  My 
captains  are  frequently  obliged  to  sign  a 
written  agreement  to  go  nowhere  but  to  the 
West  Indies.  However,  I  pay  them  well  and 
they  go  to  America.  When  they  return,  the 
Ministry  sends  them  to  prison  for  disobedi 
ence.  I  double  their  pay  and  console  them 
with  gold.  What  difficulties !  What  anxie 
ties  !  Ah,  if  we  had  the  Alliance,  monsieur! 
Mr.  Franklin  and  I  have  worked  for  it  as 
168 


Brinton    meets    Beaumarchais 

hard  as  men  can  work  for  anything.  France 
is  ready,  and  without  doubt  the  Ministry  is 
ready,  but  Vergennes  is  too  cautious  a  fox  to 
be  caught.  Mr.  Franklin  and  I  are  no  nearer 
to  it  than  we  were  six  months  ago.  It  does 
not  rest  with  us  but  with  the  American  army. 
One  victory,  Monsieur  Eliot,  one  victory  on 
the  banks  of  the  Hudson  or  the  Delaware, 
and  the  French  Alliance  is  yours ! " 

"  What  will  the  king  do,  monsieur  ?  " 

Beaumarchais  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
"  Ah !  you  do  not  know  the  king,  Monsieur 
Eliot.  We  are  no  longer  in  the  days  of 
Louis  Quatorze.  To  come  now  to  your 
affairs.  You  have  a  ship.  Very  good.  You 
desire  to  trade  with  the  West  Indies.  Eh 
bien !  Roderique  Hortalez  &  Company  will 
furnish  you  with  many  things  —  shoes,  laces, 
bonbons,  and  so  on,  it  matters  not  what.  In 
the  cases  of  shoes,  laces,  and  so  on,  will  be 
powder,  sulphur,  mortars,  muskets,  and  pis 
tols.  You  understand  ? " 

"  Perfectly." 

"  You  sail  for  the  West  Indies.  You  arrive 
in  New  England.  You  understand  ?  " 

"  Exactly." 

"  There  is  a  man  in  Paris  whom  we  are 
most  anxious  to  have  in  America.  I  think 
he  will  consent  to  go.  If  he  consents,  he  will 
sail  with  you." 

"  And  who  is  he,  monsieur?  " 
169 


Brinton  Eliot 

"That,  Monsieur  Eliot,  I  cannot  tell  you 
at  present." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon." 

"  No,  no.  You  were  perfectly  right  to  ask. 
In  a  day  or  two  you  will  meet  him,  I  hope. 
And  now  that  we  have  finished  our  business 
for  the  moment,"  he  added,  with  a  smile,  "  if 
you  will  drive  with  me  to  Paris,  we  will  sup 
at  the  Palais  Royal.  There  is  a  concert  and 
all  the  world." 


170 


CHAPTER   VI 

AT   THE    PALAIS    ROYAL 

BEAUMARCHAIS  proved  himself  a  delightful 
host.  He  had  seen  much,  and  he  told  a  num 
ber  of  anecdotes  in  the  most  entertaining 
fashion.  If  he  was  pleased  with  the  young 
American,  Eliot  was  not  less  so  with  him. 
Brinton  enjoyed  the  drive  thoroughly  and 
found  the  streets  of  Paris,  with  their  misery 
and  their  magnificence,  full  of  interest.  The 
signs  swung  merrily  from  the  shop-fronts. 
Ballad-singers  were  bawling;  gaily-decked 
coffee-sellers,  with  bright  tin  cans  strapped 
on  their  backs,  were  peddling  at  two  sous  a 
cup ;  people  were  coming  from  the  fair  in  the 
Place  de  la  Greve,  or  going  to  the  theatres, 
for  the  spectacles  began  at  half-past  five,  and 
there  were  plenty  of  large  placards  announc 
ing  Cephale  et  Procris,  Ballet-H'eroique,  at 
the  Opera,  or  Le  Legataire,  Comedie  en  cinq 
Actes,  at  the  Fran9aise.  Well-dressed  citi 
zens  in  striped  coats  and  silk  stockings  picked 
their  way  over  the  rough  cobbles,  dodging 
the  great  hubs  which  stood  out  beyond  the 
wheels  on  the  coaches  of  persons  of  rank,  and 
171 


Brinton   Eliot 

beset  at  every  corner  by  filthy  beggars,  whom 
the  Lieutenant-General  of  Police  might  well 
have  clapped  into  the  Hotel  Dieu,  would 
have  clapped  most  probably,  had  not  Hotel 
Dieu,  at  the  moment,  been  sleeping  six  in 
a  bed. 

Brilliant  indeed  was  the  Place  Louis  XV, 
crowded  with  the  carriages  of  the  nobility, 
great  gilded  four  and  six-horse  vehicles  with 
runners  and  lackeys  in  splendid  liveries,  com 
ing  back  from  the  Cours  at  a  furious  pace, 
heedless  of  the  lives  or  limbs  of  the  herd ;  for 
whatever  the  press,  M.  le  Comte  or  M.  le 
Marquis  had  the  right  of  way.  Beaumarchais 
pointed  out  a  young  man  who  whirled  by  in 
a  high  English  "  whiski,"  telling  Brinton  that 
the  man  in  question  was  a  Prince  of  the  Blood, 
the  Due  de  Chartres,  who  since  his  last  visit 
to  England  had  become  more  of  an  Anglo- 
maniac  than  ever. 

The  garden  of  the  Palais  Royal  was  then 
a  rendezvous  for  people  of  rank ;  for  men  of 
letters  went  to  the  Luxembourg,  and  the  pop 
ulace  to  the  Tuileries.  But  together  with 
titled  rakes,  there  were  at  the  Palais  Royal 
plenty  of  scamps  and  blacklegs  who,  lacking 
coats  of  arms,  were  none  the  less  fellows  of 
like  kidney  with  many  of  their  betters ;  and 
there  were  also  plenty  of  women  with  beauti 
ful  clothes,  very  fine  manners,  and  no  morals 
at  all. 

172 


At    the    Palais    Royal 

Beaumarchais  took  a  table  at  the  end  of 
one  of  the  allees,  and  both  he  and  Brinton 
were  soon  busy  in  the  mysteries  of  the  menu, 
for  at  the  Palais  Royal  one  could  procure 
anything  from  the  truffles  of  Perigord,  and 
the  potted  partridges  of  Nerac,  to  the  carp  of 
Strasbourg. 

"  Hein  !  "  said  Beaumarchais,  suddenly,  put 
ting  down  his  fork.  "  Excuse  me  a  moment, 
my  friend.  I  want  to  have  a  word  with  the 
Comte  de  Saint-Quentin  yonder." 

He  crossed  to  another  table,  leaving  Brin 
ton  to  watch  the  crowd.  Among  others  a 
short,  bloated  man,  with  small  eyes  and  puffy 
eyelids,  came  down  the  allee.  This  gentleman 
was  dressed  in  pink  silk  with  cuffs  of  rich 
lace,  and  carried  a  snuff-box  set  with  dia 
monds  ;  apparently  he  was  looking  for  a  table 
to  his  liking.  Suddenly  he  dropped  his  hand 
kerchief.  It  was  instantly  picked  up  by  a  fel 
low  in  a  brown  coat,  who  presented  it  with  a 
low  bow.  "  Milord,"  said  he,  "  the  Minister 
of  War  received  a  German  officer  at  the 
Arsenal  this  afternoon."  "  Watch  to-night," 
replied  the  man  in  pink  silk,  and  passed  on. 
In  another  moment  he  dropped  his  cane.  A 
clever  scamp  seized  it  before  it  reached  the 
ground.  "  Milord,"  said  he,  "  an  American 
ship  has  put  in  at  Marseilles."  "  The  deuce  ! 
Send  Penannech  to  Passy,  and  go  yourself  to 
Beaumarchais's."  "  Beaumarchais  is  here,  mi- 


Brinton  Eliot 

lord."  "  Very  good.  I  want  to  know  every 
thing  he  does  for  the  next  twenty-four  hours. 
At  the  end  of  that  time,  come  and  report." 
His  lordship  continued  his  walk  and  finally 
sat  down  in  a  chair  at  the  last  table  in  the 
allee,  directly  behind  Brinton.  Brinton,  how 
ever,  was  watching  the  brilliant  throng,  mov 
ing  through  the  lamp-lit  allees,  and  paid  no 
attention  to  the  stout  man  in  pink  silk,  who 
ordered  an  ice,  and  asked  for  the  Mercure  de 
France.  Beaumarchais  was  talking  earnestly 
to  a  smartly-dressed  individual,  the  Comte  de 
Saint-Quentin  probably,  and  Brinton  could 
not  help  wondering  what  Beaumarchais  was 
busy  about,  imagining  several  things,  all  of 
which  were  wide  of  the  mark,  for  Beaumar 
chais  was  talking  "  Figaro  "  to  Saint-Quentin, 
and  urging  the  comte  to  loan  the  theatre  in 
his  chateau  for  the  first  performance.  Brin 
ton  noticed  also  a  very  elegant  young  fop, 
dressed  in  a  style  more  English  than  French, 
whom  many  people  saluted  with  low  bows. 
This  fellow  was  the  Due  de  Chartres,  Prince 
of  the  Blood.  In  a  short  time,  since  son  suc 
ceeds  father,  he  was  to  become  Due  d'Orleans, 
naturally  enough.  Had  a  prophet  predicted 
that  to  him  he  would  not  have  been  surprised, 
but  fancy  his  amazement  had  he  been  told 
that  in  a  few  years  he  —  who  was  interested  in 
women  and  horses,  knowing  little  about  poli 
tics  and  caring  less  —  would  become  a  Jaco- 


At    the    Palais    Royal 

bin,  vote  publicly  for  the  death  of  his  royal 
cousin,  and  finally,  over  that  Place  Louis  XV, 
across  which  he  had  whirled  that  afternoon  in 
his  English  "whiski,"  rumble  in  a  rough  cart 
to  the  guillotine.  His,  however,  was  not 
the  only  head,  wagging  merrily  that  evening 
through  the  lamp-lit  allees,  which  would  wag 
for  the  last  time  on  the  Place  Louis  XV. 

The  Due  de  Chartres  approached  the  table 
at  which  sat  the  stout  man  in  pink  silk.  The 
latter  rose,  and,  for  a  bloated  person,  made  an 
excellent  bow. 

"  Well  met,  milord,"  said  Chartres. 

"  Quite  so,  Your  Royal  Highness.  When 
did  you  leave  England  ?  " 

"  On  Wednesday,"  replied  Chartres,  seat 
ing  himself  and  motioning  to  the  other  to  do 
the  same.  "  I  saw  Parliament ;  queer  enough 
it  was,  too.  I  heard  Fox  and  Burke.  Each 
of  them  said  enough  in  six  minutes  to  put 
himself  in  the  Bastille  for  twenty  years,  had  he 
been  over  here.  Ma  foil  while  they  were 
on  their  legs  they  gave  your  Ministry  a  bad 
quarter  of  an  hour." 

"  Vile  Whigs!  vile  Whigs  both  !"  exclaimed 
his  lordship,  while  his  little  eyes  gleamed 
wrathfully  under  their  puffy  lids.  " '  Pon 
my  soul !  the  King  of  England  would  clap 
them,  quick  enough,  in  a  bastille,  if  he  had 


one." 


Brinton  turned  his  head  to  see  who  was 


Brinton  Eliot 

talking  in  this  fashion,  and  perceived  the 
bloated  personage  in  pink  silk. 

"  I  dare  say,"  remarked  Chartres.  "  Twas 
clear  they  thought  well  of  the  Americans." 

"  No  doubt ! "  exclaimed  his  lordship,  an 
grily,  "  no  doubt !  But  the  Americans  are  a 
pack  of  damned  rebels.  And  we'll  whip  'em, 
by  God !  Whip  'em  like  a  pack  of  hounds  !  " 

This  was  more  than  Brinton  could  endure, 
and  he  sprang  up  and  made  a  fool  of  himself. 

"  I  don't  know  who  you  are,"  said  he,  hotly, 
facing  the  bloated  personage  in  pink  silk,  "  but 
I'm  an  American,  and  I  won't  sit  still  and  hear 
myself  and  all  my  friends  called  hounds  and 
rebels.  You  won't  whip  us,  by  God !  And 
we  are  not  going  to  be  bullied,  for  we  have  a 
right  to  say  what  we  will  do  and  what  we 
won't  do.  There  are  some  decent  English 
men  who  see  it  that  way,  but  on  the  other 
hand  there  are  some  pig-eyed,  pig-headed 
asses  like  you  who  make  all  the  trouble." 

His  lordship  gave  Brinton  a  cold,  contempt 
uous  stare,  and  his  lip  curled  scornfully.  The 
Due  de  Chartres,  too,  looked  haughtily  at  the 
intruder,  who  had  made  what  he  detested,  a 
scene.  Then  his  lordship,  glancing  at  a  lackey 
behind  the  Due  de  Chartres,  said  with  a  slight 
shrug,  "  That  fellow  is  drunk.  Throw  him 
out!" 

It  was  a  critical  moment;  for  Brinton,  quite 
beside  himself,  was  on  the  point  of  giving  his 
176 


At    the    Palais    Royal 

lordship  a  stinging  blow,  but  his  arm  was 
seized  firmly,  and  he  himself  was  dragged 
backward  by  Beaumarchais,  who  said  sternly, 
"  Are  you  mad  ?  " 

"I  —  I  don't  know  !  "  exclaimed  Brinton. 
"  Let  go  of  me  !  That  Englishman  is  not  to 
be  endured.  He's  outrageous  !  He's  —  " 

But  Beaumarchais  forced  him  quickly  up 
the  allee. 

"  Nom  de  Dieu  /  "  said  he,  earnestly,  "  that 
was  the  British  Ambassador.  How  could  you 
get  in  a  fracas  with  him,  of  all  men  ?  You 
have  drawn  his  attention  to  you.  The  worst 
thing  possible,  the  worst  thing  possible!  What 
will  Monsieur  Franklin  say?  " 

Brinton  was  ashamed  of  his  conduct. 

"  I  dare  say  I'm  an  ass,"  said  he,  frankly, 
"  but  when  a  fellow  has  been  away  from  his 
country  as  long  as  I  have,  you've  no  idea  how 
he  longs  to  see  it  again,  and  especially  when 
his  country  is  in  trouble.  And  that  beast 
called  the  Americans  dogs  and  rebels.  I 
couldn't  stand  it,  Beaumarchais.  I'm  damned 
if  I  could  !  " 

"  Zounds !  If  he  said  that,  I  agree  with 
you.  If  we  were  at  war,  and  an  enemy  spoke 
of  Frenchmen  in  such  terms  in  my  presence, 
I  would  run  him  through.  However,  the 
affair  is  none  the  less  most  unfortunate.  His 
spies  are  everywhere.  I  fear,  my  friend,  that 
the  matter  will  not  end  here." 

N  I77 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  You  mean  that  he  will  fight  me  ?  " 
Beaumarchais  was  too  polite  to  laugh  in 
Brinton's  face,  but  he  came  near  doing  so. 
"  My  friend,"  said  he,  smiling,  "  I  mean 
nothing  of  the  sort.  Your  ignorance  of  dip 
lomats  is  refreshing  and  quite  delightful.  You 
have  probably  seen  Lord  Stormont  for  the 
first  and  last  time,  but  Monsieur  Franklin  and 
I  will  undoubtedly  have  our  hands  full  now  in 
getting  you,  and  the  man  who  is  to  sail  with 
you,  safely  out  of  France." 


178 


CHAPTER   VII 

THE    KING    AT   VERSAILLES 

THE  affair  at  the  Palais  Royal  was,  as 
Beaumarchais  had  said,  unfortunate,  and  on 
bidding  Brinton  good-night  M.  de  Beaumar 
chais  requested  him  not  to  leave  his  hotel  in 
the  morning  until  he  called  for  him.  Brin 
ton,  naturally  enough,  was  tempted  to  laugh 
at  this  excessive  caution,  but  the  Frenchman, 
who  understood  Stormont,  was  emphatic,  for 
he  knew  that  behind  the  puffy  lids  of  that 
bloated  personage  there  lurked  as  much 
deviltry  as  ever  lurked  in  the  brain  of  Borgia, 
and  he  was  well  aware  that  the  minions  of 
the  British  Ambassador  were  as  skilful  with 
the  dagger  as  with  the  sword-cane. 

When  Beaumarchais  arrived,  at  ten  in  the 
morning,  Brinton  joined  him,  and  entered 
the  carriage.  Beaumarchais  put  his  head 
out  of  the  window  and  said  to  his  coachman 
in  a  loud  tone,  "  Drive  to  Passy !  "  When 
they  had  gone  three  blocks  he  changed  the 
order,  telling  his  man  to  drive  to  the  Hotel 
de  Hollande  in  the  Rue  Vieille  du  Temple. 
There  the  establishment  of  Roderique  Hor- 
179 


Brinton  Eliot 

c 

talez  &  Company  was  located.  All  this, 
however,  was  useless,  for  the  same  blackleg, 
who  had  picked  up  his  lordship's  cane  in  the 
garden  of  the  Palais  Royal,  was  following 
on  horseback,  and  had  followed  Beaumar- 
chais's  carriage  from  the  time  it  left  his 
residence. 

At  the  establishment  of  Roderique  Hor- 
talez  &  Company,  Beaumarchais  gave  orders 
for  the  purchase  and  transport  of  seventeen 
hundred  weight  of  powder,  twenty-two  tons 
of  sulphur,  fifty-two  brass  cannon,  nineteen 
mortars,  and  a  large  number  of  field-pieces, 
muskets,  and  pistols.  Many  of  these  things 
were  to  be  bought  in  Marseilles,  and  the  re 
mainder  in  Paris.  Brinton  made  arrange 
ments  also  to  equip  the  Flamand  with 
twenty-four  guns.  As  they  reentered  the 
carriage,  Beaumarchais  said  to  his  coachman, 
"  You  may  drive  to  Versailles." 

"  The  king  has  granted  me  an  audience," 
said  he,  when  they  had  started  on  their 
twelve-mile  drive,  "and  I  shall  try  again 
to-day  to  force  Vergennes's  hand.  Perhaps 
you  can  aid  me." 

"  You  may  be  sure  I'll  do  anything  I  can," 
said  Brinton,  "  but  I  can't  imagine  of  what 
service  I  can  be." 

"Possibly  none  at  all,  and  possibly  —  eh 
bien  !  I  have  tried  many  expedients  in  my 
time.  You  are  an  American.  If  the  king 
1 80 


The    King    at   Versailles 

consents  to  see  you,  you  can  tell  him  some 
things  about  America  better  than  I  can." 

"  King  Louis  XV,"  said  Brinton,  laughing, 
" will  think—  " 

"  Ah !  Louis  Quinze  is  in  his  coffin  at  St. 
Denis,  Monsieur  Eliot.  We  are  in  the  third 
year  of  the  reign  of  Louis  Seize,  and  you  are 
older  than  he." 

"  Egad  !  It's  odd  I  never  heard  of  it." 

"  You  have  been  in  India." 

"  That's  true  enough." 

In  due  time  they  reached  their  destination, 
driving  up  the  Avenue  de  Paris  between  the 
king's  stables,  and  so  into  the  wide  Place 
d'Armes,  where,  beyond  the  lofty  gilded  rail 
ings  of  the  cour  d'konneur,  courtyard  within 
courtyard,  stood  the  Grand  Monarques  great 
palace  —  the  royal  house  —  Versailles. 

Beaumarchais's  carriage  stopped  in  the 
cour  d'honneur,  for  no  carriages  but  those  of 
the  king  were  permitted  to  pass  into  the  cour 
royale.  This  first  courtyard  in  which  Eliot 
and  Beaumarchais  alighted  was  as  spacious 
as  the  square  of  many  a  town,  and  contained 
at  the  moment  thirty  or  forty  splendid  equi 
pages  and  two  or  three  hundred  people. 
Maitres  d'hbtel,  wine-porters,  purveyors, 
laundry-yeomen,  in  liveries  of  various  colors, 
were  passing  from  the  palace  to  the  grand 
commun,  a  large  building  on  the  Rue  de  la 
Surintendance,  in  which  were  the  king's 
181 


Brinton  Eliot 

kitchens  and  wine  cellars  and  all  that 
pertained  thereto,  including  some  three  hun 
dred  and  twenty-four  men,  from  the  Due  de 
Cosse  Brissac,  grand  pantler,  and  the  Mar 
quis  de  Gironde,  grand  cup-bearer,  down  to 
the  vegetable-men,  the  salad-purveyors,  and 
the  errand-boys  —  in  short  the  "bouche du  roi" 
whose  business  it  was  to  feed  His  Most 
Christian  Majesty.  Here  came  the  coach  of 
the  Comte  d'Haussonville,  master  of  the 
wolf  hounds,  with  the  gilt  heads  of  three 
wolves  glittering  on  the  panels,  and  behind 
it  the  carriage  of  the  Comte  de  Vaudreuil, 
grand  falconer,  who,  though  falconry  went 
out  of  fashion  in  the  time  of  Louis  XIV,  and 
there  were  no  longer  any  hawks  in  the  royal 
mews,  still  drew  his  five  thousand  livres  a 
year  blissfully.  He  saluted  Beaumarchais. 
As  they  approached  the  railing  of  the  cour 
royale  where  the  red-coated  Suisse  with  their 
long  halberds  were  on  duty,  a  carriage,  pre 
ceded  by  horsemen  of  the  garde  du  corps 
drove  out  of  the  cour  des  princes,  and  Beau 
marchais  turned  to  Eliot  with  the  remark, 
" La  reine,  monsieur'.'  At  that  moment  the 
drums  of  the  Suisse  sounded  the  royal  salute. 
The  horsemen  of  the  bodyguard  were  clad 
in  bright  blue  tunics,  faced  with  red,  and 
trimmed  on  the  sleeves  and  cross-pockets  with 
broad  silver  bindings.  Over  their  tunics  they 
wore  shoulder-belts  of  white  silk  and  silver, 
182 


The    King    at   Versailles 

trimmed  with  silver  lace ;  on  their  hats  were 
large  white  cockades,  and  their  black  horses 
were  decked  with  scarlet  trappings.  Then 
came  the  queen's  carriage,  with  its  four  cream- 
colored  horses,  powered  coachman,  painted 
panels,  huge  springs,  and  gold-laced  lackeys 
up  behind,  rolling  rapidly  through  the  main 
gate  of  the  cour  royale.  On  its  velvet  cushions 
sat  the  two  women  who  at  that  time  were  con 
sidered  the  most  beautiful  in  France ;  neither 
one  was  over  twenty-two,  and  both  with  their 
golden  hair  unpowdered,  their  big  straw  hats, 
their  simple  white  dresses  and  delicate  lace, 
were  as  dainty  and  charming  as  possible. 
For  Her  Majesty  Marie  Antoinette  and  the 
Princesse  de  Lamballe,  leaving  behind  them 
diamonds,  plumes,  powder,  and  panniers, 
were  going  to  play  the  dairy  maids  at  Tria 
non.  As  the  carnage  passed,  Beaumarchais 
and  Eliot  doffed  their  hats,  and  the  queen, 
who  held  a  bunch  of  white  roses,  bowed 
graciously,  and  tapped  the  cheek  of  the 
princess  with  a  flower  in  a  playful  manner  to 
attract  her  attention,  saying,  "  Voila  /  Beau 
marchais."  Brinton  thought  the  queen  a 
very  pretty  woman,  but  thought  also  that  he 
knew  a  girl  in  Philadelphia  who  was  hand 
somer. 

Beaumarchais  entered    the  palace    to    the 
right   of   the    marble   court,   for   the   king's 
apartments  were  located  in  that  wing,  and 
183 


Brinton  Eliot 

Brinton  was  somewhat  surprised  to  see  under 
the  arches  little  stalls  where  dealers  sold 
jewelry,  perfumes,  snuff-boxes,  and  trinkets  of 
all  kinds.  Everywhere  there  was  a  crowd, 
for  parts  of  the  palace  were  open  to  all  the 
world,  while  the  palace  itself,  in  the  buildings 
of  which  some  eight  or  nine  thousand  persons 
were  lodged,  was  like  the  splendid  quarter  of 
a  populous  city.  When  they  reached  the 
salon  des  pendules,  —  which  took  its  name 
from  the  large  clocks  of  the  period  Louis 
Quatorze,  with  which  it  was  adorned, —  Beau- 
marchais  went  up  to  the  usher  on  duty,  asked 
to  see  the  king,  and  gave  the  man  a  louis  d'or, 
for  this  gorgeously-decked  Suisse  stood  six 
feet  two,  had  held  the  same  post  for  some 
years  under  the  previous  sovereign,  and  was 
much  too  tall  a  man  to  accept  tips  in  any 
coin  but  gold.  He  pocketed  the  louis  and 
answered,  with  a  slight  German  accent,  which 
was  natural,  and  a  slight  shrug  of  the  shoul 
ders,  which  was  acquired,  "  The  king  has 
gone  to  Marly,  monsieur."  Beaumarchais 
was  evidently  much  disappointed,  and  re 
marked  to  Eliot  that,  although  the  king's 
secretary  had  written  him  to  come  at  that 
hour,  the  monarch  had  either  forgotten  about 
the  audience  or  had  changed  his  mind.  He 
added  that  it  was  impossible  to  follow  the 
king  to  Marly,  since,  according  to  custom, 
no  one  went  there  unless  invited  or  sum- 
184 


The    King    at   Versailles 

moned,  and  that,  therefore,  he  would  show 
Brinton  the  gardens,  which  were  the  finest  in 
Europe,  and  then  they  would  drive  back  to 
Paris.  They  started  toward  the  staircase, 
but  in  the  salle  des  bijoux  a  gentleman  passed 
them  who  saluted  Beaumarchais,  and  whom 
Beaumarchais  seemed  a  trifle  surprised  to  see, 
for  the  man  was  M.  le  Grand,  the  king's  first 
equerry,  on  duty  for  the  quarter ;  and  accord 
ing  to  the  rigid  court  etiquette,  which  bound 
the  king  as  tightly  as  the  lackey,  and  with 
which  Beaumarchais  was  perfectly  familiar, 
His  Majesty  could  no  more  drive  or  ride  any 
where  without  his  first  equerry  than  he  could 
go  without  his  head.  His  Majesty  was  not 
at  Marly.  Beaumarchais  went  up  to  the 
next  redcoat  and  asked  where  the  king  was. 
"The  king  has  gone  to  Marly,  monsieur." 
They  had,  apparently,  learned  their  lesson 
well.  Beaumarchais,  nothing  daunted, 
handed  the  Suisse  a  louis  (for  and  repeated 
his  question.  Again  the  stereotyped  answer, 
"  The  king  has  gone  to  Marly,  monsieur," 
but  this  time  with  a  wink  —  a  wink  which 
under  the  profligate  Louis  XV  meant  many 
things,  and  under  the  virtuous  Louis  XVI 
but  one.  Brinton,  who  understood  nothing 
at  all  of  these  manoeuvres,  was  surprised ;  in 
a  few  moments  he  was  to  be  dumfounded. 
They  crossed  several  salles,  in  which  the  glass, 
the  gilding,  and  the  furniture  displayed  in 
185 


Brinton  Eliot 

their  perfection  the  arts  of  the  period  Louis 
Quatorze  and  the  period  Louis  Quinze ;  and 
finally  Beaumarchais  mounted  a  narrow,  dark 
staircase,  with  Eliot  at  his  heels.  On  the 
landing  at  the  top  of  the  staircase  stood  a 
man,  magnificently  dressed.  Brinton  thought 
this  gentleman  must  be  a  marquis  at  the 
least,  but  the  fellow  was  in  reality  a  valet  de 
chambre.  From  behind  a  white  and  gold 
door  came  sharp,  metallic  sounds. 

"Ah,  Ribot,"  said  Beaumarchais.  "He's 
at  it  again,  eh  ?  " 

"  M.  de  Beaumarchais,  is  it  not  disgusting  ? 
What  a  fall  from  Louis  Quatorze,  monsieur ! 
What  a  fall !  " 

"Ribot,  kindly  tell  His  Majesty  that  I 
am  here,  according  to  his  order.  You  might 
add  that  I  have  a  new  watch  of  very  beauti 
ful  workmanship  which  I  particularly  desire 
to  show  him.  Ask  him  also  if  he  will 
receive  Monsieur  Eliot  of  New  York,  who 
wishes  to  pay  his  respects  before  leaving 
for  America.  I  have  mentioned  three  things, 
Ribot,"  he  added,  placing  three  louts  cTor  in 
the  valet's  hands.  "I  trust  you  will  remem 
ber  them  all." 

"  Ah,  monsieur,  it  is  quite  impossible  for 
me  to  forget  them." 

Ribot  disappeared  behind  the  white  and 
gold  door,  but  the  sharp,  metallic  sounds  con 
tinued.  Brinton  was  much  puzzled  by  the 
186 


The    King    at   Versailles 

whole  performance,  and  could  not  imagine 
why  they  had  come  up  to  the  top  of  the 
palace.  However,  when  the  magnificent 
Ribot  reappeared,  and  holding  the  white  and 
gold  door  open,  said  abruptly,  "  Passes, 
messieurs!"  he  put  his  cocked  hat  under  his 
arm  and  followed  Beaumarchais,  feeling  some 
what  as  he  had  at  New  Haven  when  about 
to  enter  the  presence  of  the  pr&ses.  "  Le 
sieur  de  Beaumarchais.  Monsieur  Eliot," 
announced  Ribot.  They  entered  a  room, 
which,  at  the  first  glance,  seemed  to  Brinton 
the  shop  of  a  smith. 

There  was  a  forge  built  in  the  chimney, 
and  to  the  right  of  it  an  immense  bellows, 
supported  on  iron  rods,  which  were  driven 
ruthlessly  into  exquisitely-painted  panels. 
A  small  anvil  stood  near  the  forge,  while  to 
the  left  was  a  rough  table  with  lathes  and 
tools  of  various  kinds,  and  beyond  it  a  high 
cupboard  with  more  than  twenty  drawers, 
some  shut,  some  open,  which  blocked  up  a 
door  and  half  concealed  a  splendid  dessus  de 
porte,  painted  in  Boucher's  best  manner,  of 
the  Marquise  de  Pompadour.  Above  the 
wooden  table,  two  rows  of  hooks  held  a 
formidable  phalanx  of  the  iron  implements  of 
smithcraft,  and  near  the  cupboard  stood  a 
common  wooden  stool  and  a  costly  arm-chair 
of  gilded  wood  and  tapestry,  on  which  were 
flung  an  embroidered  coat,  a  broad  blue 
187 


Brinton  Eliot 

ribbon,  a  gold-laced  beaver,  and  a  court  sword. 
A  middle-aged  man,  wearing  a  round,  greasy 
wig,  a  coarse  shirt  with  the  sleeves  rolled  up 
above  his  elbows,  common,  brown  breeches,  a 
leather  apron,  and  rough  shoes  and  stockings, 
was  heating  an  iron  in  the  fire,  while  a  plump, 
red-faced  young  fellow  of  twenty-four,  with  a 
white  bag-wig,  in  shirt  sleeves,  white  satin 
waistcoat,  blue  satin  small-clothes,  white  silk 
stockings,  and  shoes  with  gold  buckles,  was 
fitting  a  key  in  a  brass  lock  which  he  held  in 
his  hand.  He  bore  such  a  striking  resem 
blance  to  Joshua  Lamb  that  Brinton,  com 
pletely  bewildered  by  all  that  had  happened 
since  they  entered  the  palace,  was  almost 
ready  to  crack  him  on  the  shoulder  and  say, 
"  '  Mutton  ! '  What  on  earth  are  you  doing 
here  ?  "  when  Beaumarchais  paralyzed  him  by 
remarking,  with  a  very  low  bow,  "  Sire,  may  I 
present  to  Your  Majesty  Monsieur  Eliot  of 
New  York?" 

The  king  looked  very  much  like  a  boy 
who  has  been  caught  by  his  mother  in  the 
pantry  with  his  hand  in  the  jam-pot.  He 
flushed.  Then  seeing  in  Brinton's  face  the 
amazement  which  that  young  gentleman  was 
quite  unable  to  conceal,  the  monarch  said, 
with  a  weak  smile,  "  I  am  at  my  trade,  you  see." 

"  I  did  not  know  you  had  one,  sir,"  replied 
Brinton,  still  aghast ;  and  at  this  answer  the 
plump  king  laughed  heartily. 
188 


The    King    at   Versailles 

His  Most  Christian  Majesty's  performances 
in  regard  to  Beaumarchais's  audience  were 
exactly  like  so  many  of  his  actions  later  in 
life  about  matters  vastly  more  critical.  He 
did  not  want  to  see  Beaumarchais,  but  his 
secretary  urged  him  to  do  so,  and  he  gave  in. 
Then  he  was  sorry.  It  would  have  been  very 
easy  to  have  refused,  had  he  so  chosen,  after 
Beaumarchais  arrived,  but  that  was  too  much 
like  decided  action,  and  His  Majesty  never 
took  any  decided  action  unless  some  one  else 
showed  him  it  was  the  thing  to  do,  and  in 
this  case  nobody  pointed  it  out.  Therefore 
he  took  a  middle  course,  —  shut  himself  up  in 
his  forge,  and  announced  that  he  had  gone  to 
Marly.  When  he  was  found  out,  and  Beau 
marchais  was  at  the  door,  he  might  easily 
have  said,  "  Stay  out !  "  which  he  desired  to 
say ;  but  that  was  a  little  too  much  like  decided 
action,  so  he  said,  "  Come  in."  He  was  an 
excellent  young  fellow,  clean  morally  and 
sound  physically,  with  a  magnificent  appetite 
and  the  best  heart  and  the  worst  manners  in 
the  world,  up  in  smithcraft  but  down  in  king 
craft.  Had  he  been  born  in  the  Rue  St. 
Nicaise,  he  would  have  hung  out  a  brass  key 
and  been  a  first-rate  locksmith  all  his  life, 
happy  and  contented,  the  good  father  of  a 
family.  But  he  wras  born  in  the  Palace  of 
Versailles,  and,  unfortunately  for  himself, 
inherited  with  his  crown  the  debts  and  the 
189 


Brinton  Eliot 

sins  of  his  sires.  When  it  was  all  over,  he 
went  up  the  steps  of  the  guillotine  in  better 
fashion  than  he  ever  went  up  the  steps  of  his 
throne,  and  died  like  a  brave  man. 

"  Sire,"  said  Beaumarchais,  "  since  Your 
Majesty  has  been  gracious  enough  to  grant 
me  an  audience —  " 

At  the  word  "  audience "  it  suddenly 
occurred  to  His  Majesty  that  kings  should 
sit  and  subjects  stand.  He  walked  to  the 
gilt  arm-chair  and  plumped  himself  down, 
forgetful  of  his  gold-laced  beaver,  while  the 
court  sword  fell  on  the  floor.  Beaumarchais 
picked  it  up  in  the  most  graceful  fashion  and 
handed  it  to  the  king,  who  in  the  meantime 
had  pulled  his  hat  out  from  under  him  and 
placed  it  on  his  head.  The  king  put  the 
sword  across  his  knees,  and  since  the  day  was 
warm  for  the  season,  and  the  forge  any  thing  but 
cool,  he  drew  out  of  his  waistcoat  a  rich  lace 
handkerchief  and  mopped  his  face.  Then 
he  was  ready.  By  this  time  whatever  con 
versational  powers  Brinton  Eliot  possessed 
when  he  entered  the  apartment  had  gone  up 
the  flue  of  the  forge. 

"  Sire,"  said  Beaumarchais,  "  has  the  last 
watch  which  I  made  for  Your  Majesty  kept 
good  time  ? " 

"Yes." 

"  I    should   like    to   show   you   this    one, 


sire." 


190 


The    King    at    Versailles 

He  drew  from  his  pocket  a  delicate  little 
gold  watch,  quite  a  gem,  in  fact,  and  pre 
sented  it  to  Louis.  The  king  examined  it 
carefully  with  the  eye  of  a  connoisseur,  and 
pressed  the  spring.  The  lid  flew  up,  reveal 
ing  an  exquisite  miniature  of  Mr.  Benjamin 
Franklin,  whose  portrait  at  that  moment 
adorned  thousands  of  watches,  rings,  and 
brooches  in  Paris  and  in  France. 

"  Whose  portrait  have  you  here,  Beau- 
marchais  ?  " 

"  Monsieur  Franklin's,  sire." 

"  Ah  !     He  is  quite  an  old  man." 

"  But  his  country  is  young,  sire,  and  his 
country  is  in  sore  distress.  Think  of  Canada, 
sire !  Think  of  Quebec  !  If  you  but  say  the 
word,  France  can  avenge  the  Plains  of  Abra 
ham." 

"  Beaumarchais,  I  have  told  you  more  than 
once  that  I  do  not  like  war." 

u  There  are  two  kinds  of  warfare,  sire. 
Monsieur  Franklin's  people  are  waging  a 
just  war.  Ma  foil  since  the  French  have 
called  you  Louis  le  Desire,  may  not  the 
Americans  call  you  Louis  le  Liberatcur  ?  " 

All  this  sounded  entirely  too  much  like 
decided  action,  and  Louis  XVI  shifted  un 
easily  in  his  gilt  arm-chair.  He  got  out  of 
the  difficulty  by  turning  to  Brinton. 

"  I  think  Beaumarchais  said  you  live  in 
New  York." 

191 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  That  is  on  the  Hudson  River,  I  believe." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Is  the  Hudson  as  large  as  the  Seine  ? " 

"  Gad ! "  said  Brinton,  "  I  should  think  it 
was ! " 

The  king  laughed  and  seemed  pleased. 
The  fact  that  Brinton,  who  was  not  up  in 
court  etiquette,  called  him  "  monsieur "  in 
stead  of  "  sire,"  amused  him  also.  It  was 
something  new. 

"What  do  you  think  of  this?"  said  he, 
handing  Brinton  the  lock  which  he  had  been 
holding  in  his  left  hand.  It  was  a  splendid 
piece  of  workmanship,  and  the  little  key  was 
a  work  of  art. 

"  It's  amazing  fine,"  said  Brinton ;  and  he 
meant  it,  for  it  really  was. 

"  I  made  it  myself,"  said  the  king. 

"  Gad !  "  said  Brinton,  "  I  could  never  make 
anything  like  that." 

"  Would  you  like  to  see  how  it  is  done  ? " 

"  Indeed  I  would." 

The  king  was  delighted.  He  rose  hastily, 
the  court  sword  fell  on  the  floor,  and  in  a 
moment  he  and  Brinton  were  at  the  work- 
table,  where  the  king,  flushed  with  pleasure, 
exhibited  his  lathes,  took  down  one  after 
another  his  implements  of  smithcraft,  showed 
how  he  did  this  and  how  he  did  that,  dis 
played  beautiful  keys  of  all  kinds,  while 
192 


The    King    at  Versailles 

Brinton,  who  was  interested  in  everything, 
told  him  more  than  once  that  he  was  "  amaz 
ing  clever,"  and  Gamain  at  the  forge  and 
M.  de  Beaumarchais  looked  on  in  astonish 
ment.  The  king  was  quite  happy,  for  he 
was  talking  about  matters  which  he  thor 
oughly  understood  and  in  which  he  was  very 
much  interested.  In  his  world  every  one 
conversed  on  such  disagreeable  topics.  The 
ministers  talked  war,  finance,  and  taxes,  — 
all  horrible  nightmares;  the  nobility  talked 
operas,  cards,  women,  fashions,  and  a  thou 
sand  things  about  which  he  cared  nothing; 
but  no  one  talked  locks.  He  had  to  file  and 
forge  on  the  sly ;  and  if  the  queen  saw  traces 
of  his  work  on  his  fingers,  she  spoke  her 
mind,  and  he  flushed  crimson.  Here  was 
a  handsome  young  American  who  seemed 
interested  in  locks.  The  king  enjoyed  him 
self  thoroughly.  Poor  fellow  !  How  happy 
he  would  have  been  had  he  first  seen  the 
light  in  the  Rue  St.  Nicaise ! 

Two  hours  later,  when  Eliot  and  Beau 
marchais  came  down  the  marble  staircase, 
the  latter  was  radiant.  "  Prodigious  !  "  he 
exclaimed. 

"  What  is  prodigious  ?  "  inquired  Brinton. 

"  Everything.  Did  you  not  see  he  gave 
you  his  hand  a  PAnglaise?  " 

"  I  see  nothing  wonderful  in  that." 

"  Ah,  mon  Dieu  !  The  king !  my  friend, 
o  193 


Brinton  Eliot 

What  stories  you  told  him !  and  how  he 
laughed !  Nom  de  Dieu  /  how  could  you 
have  told  him  that  he  resembled  your  class 
mate  who  had  the  sobriquet  '  Mutton  '?  " 

"  Well,  I  really  don't  know.  It  slipped  out. 
I'm  sure  he  was  not  offended.  He  laughed 
more  at  the  stones  about  '  Mutton '  than  at 
anything  else." 

"  Offended  ?  I  have  never  seen  the  king 
talk  so  much  or  enjoy  himself  so  thor 
oughly." 

"  I'm  glad  of  that.  It  didn't  seem  to  me 
that  anything  was  being  done.  There  was 
no  chance  to  say  a  word  about  America." 

"  But  you  are  an  American,  my  friend,  the 
first  American  the  king  has  ever  known  or 
met,  save  in  public  audience.  There  he  will 
never  say  three  words.  You  have  given  him 
as  delightful  hours  as  he  has  ever  had.  He 
will  not  soon  forget  them.  You  are  a  diplo 
mat.  Monsieur  Eliot,  I  salute  you." 

They  drove  back  to  Paris,  Beaumarchais 
still  astonished  at  the  .way  in  which  Brinton 
had  conducted  himself  at  Versailles,  and 
Brinton  not  a  little  surprised  at  the  sovereign 
he  had  found  there.  The  road  from  Versailles 
to  Paris  was  crowded,for  in  those  days  a  steady 
stream  of  carriages  rolled  from  dawn  until 
dark  between  the  great  capital  and  the  city 
which  had  sprung  up  about  Louis  XIV's 
huge  palace  — that  palace  in  which  the  Grand 
194 


The    King    at  Versailles 

Monarques  descendant  reigned  but  did  not 
rule.  To  rule,  must  not  a  man  have  some 
settled  plan  and  purpose,  be  able  to  form 
upon  a  definite  question  a  definite  opinion, 
be  able  also  to  say,  at  a  pinch,  "  I  will,"  or 
"  I  will  not,"  and  abide  by  it  ?  This  being 
granted,  there  was  in  the  Palace  of  Versailles 
only  a  royal  locksmith ;  there  was  no  longer 
any  king  in  France. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

IN     WHICH     THE     BRITISH     AMBASSADOR     LOSES 
HIS     TEMPER 

THAT  evening  the  British  Embassy  was 
quite  dark,  save  for  the  great  lights  at  the 
entrance-gate,  and  chance  callers  were  in 
formed  that  Lord  Stormontwas  not  at  home, 
—  a  small  lie  which  was  told  easily  and  grace 
fully  ;  for  in  the  diplomatic  circles  of  that  cen 
tury  much  greater  ones  were  current  coin. 
In  fact,  in  the  eighteenth  century  a  Conti 
nental  diplomat  who  could  not  lie  was  no 
diplomat  at  all.  His  lordship  was  at  home, 
and  transacting  business,  despite  the  lateness 
of  the  hour.  He  sat  in  his  large  cabinet,  the 
gloom  of  which  was  but  faintly  illuminated 
by  two  candles  in  silver  candlesticks,  stand 
ing  on  a  small  gilt  table  beside  him.  He 
was  not  alone,  however,  since  there  were 
three  other  men  in  the  apartment.  Two  of 
them,  Scheppers  and  Grantugen,  were  plainly 
dressed,  and  their  rascality  was  stamped  upon 
their  faces ;  the  third,  Mazurie  de  Penannech, 
196 


The  British  Ambassador  loses  his  Temper 

who  was  quite  handsome  and  splendidly  at 
tired,  carried  himself  like  a  man  of  quality, 
but  was  in  reality  the  worst  villain  of  the 
three. 

"  Ton  my  soul,  Penannech,"  said  his  lord 
ship,  "  you're  amazingly  tricked  out.  When 
you  play  the  gentleman  you  cost  me  a  pretty 
penny.  Damn  you  !  " 

"  As  a  rule  you  get  your  money's  worth, 
milord." 

"We'll  see.    What  about  this  American  ? " 

"  His  name  is  Eliot.  He  arrived  in  Paris 
on  Monday,  coming  by  diligence  from  Mar 
seilles." 

"  Stuff !  I  know  that  already.  Scheppers 
found  it  out." 

Scheppers's  chest  expanded  with  pride,  but 
Penannech  was  not  at  all  crestfallen. 

"  Scheppers  is  very  wise,  no  doubt,"  said 
Penannech,  coolly,  "  but  by  milord's  leave,  he 
don't  know  everything." 

"  Eh  ?  Scheppers  and  Grantugen  knock 
about  in  plain  coats,  and  pick  up  more  in 
a  day  than  you  in  a  week.  As  for  you  — 
why  the  deuce  did  you  order  a  gold  snuff 
box  and  Spanish  snuff?" 

"  If  I  am  to  play  the  Comte  de  Provost- 
Launay,  I  must  be  equipped  as  fits  me." 

"  Yes.  Your  bills  for  the  past  two  months 
are  £s°°'  Damn  the  expense,  Penannech, 
if  you  get  anything.  The  King  of  England 
197 


Brinton  Eliot 

pays.  But  you  strut  in  your  plumage  at 
Passy,  and  that  Jack-of-all-trades,  Franklin, 
is  too  sharp  for  you." 

"  Your  lordship,  perhaps,  will  not  regret 
that  I  was  '  strutting '  at  Passy  on  Tuesday 
last  when  I  tell  you  that  the  American  ship, 
the  Flamand,  which  has  put  in  at  Marseilles, 
belongs  to  this  Eliot.  That,  I  believe,  Schep- 
pers  does  not  know." 

"  Ah !  Something  at  last,  eh  ?  How  did 
you  find  out  that  ?  " 

"  I  was  coming  out  of  the  Hotel  de  Valen- 
tinois  and  heard  Eliot  say  as  much  to  Deane 
of  the  American  Embassy." 

"  What  did  Deane  say  ?  " 

"  He  asked  Eliot  if  he  would  put  the  ship 
at  the  service  of  the  United  States." 

"  Of  the  what  ?  " 

"  Begging  milord's  pardon,  I  mean  at  the 
service  of  the  rebellious  colonies." 

"  Say  what  you  mean.     What  followed  ?  " 

"  Deane  took  Eliot  to  Franklin." 

"  How  long  was  their  interview  ?  " 

"  An  hour." 

"  Anything  more  ? " 

"  Eliot  returned  in  the  afternoon,  and  later 
drove  away  with  Beaumarchais.  I  do  not 
know  where  they  went." 

"  But  I  do ! "  cried  his  lordship,  angrily. 
"I  do !  They  went  to  the  Palais  Royal, 
where  that  young  whelp  insulted  me.  Now, 
198 


The  British  Ambassador  loses  his  Temper 

what  I  want  to  know  is,  what  that  fellow  said 
to  Franklin." 

"  That  I  was  unable  to  learn,  milord." 

"  Yes,  I  dare  say,"  replied  his  lordship  with 
a  sneer.  "  But  if  it  is  not  to  learn  things  of 
that  sort,  for  what,  in  the  devil's  name,  do 
you  draw  the  King  of  England's  gold  ? " 

"  I  could  get  no  audience  at  that  time." 

"  Ton  my  soul !  We  are  very  fine  when 
we  play  the  Comte  de  Provost-Launay.  Au 
dience,  indeed!  Hark  you  —  in  the  time  of 
Louis  XIV  it  was  one  day  of  prime  impor 
tance  for  the  Due  de  Lauzun  to  learn  what 
the  king  said  to  the  Montespan.  And  where 
was  he  on  that  day?  Cooling  his  heels  in  an 
antechamber  because  he  could  get  no  audi 
ence?  Not  he!  He  was  behind  tapestry 
under  a  sofa.  And  he  heard  !  He  learned  ! 
You  and  your  audience  —  bah!"  And  his 
lordship  turned  in  disgust  to  Grantugen. 

"  Give  an  account  of  yourself,"  said  he. 

"  Milord,"  said  Grantugen,  "  I  followed 
Beaumarchais's  carriage.  He  drove  with  the 
American  to  Roderique  Hortalez  &  Com 
pany's  place.  They  were  there  two  hours. 
From  there  they  drove  to  Versailles." 

"  To  Vergennes's  hotel  ?  " 

"  No,  your  lordship.     To  the  palace." 

"  Indeed  !     What  then  ?  " 

"  They  came  out  of  the  palace  about  four 
o'clock  and  returned  to  Paris." 
199 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  What  did  Beaumarchais  say  to  the  King 
of  France  ? " 

"  I  was  unable  to  learn,  milord." 

This  seemed  to  be  the  last  straw,  for  the 
bloated  ambassador  jumped  to  his  feet  in  a 
rage. 

"  Damn  your  liver  !  "  he  cried.  "  You 
have  the  impudence  to  tell  me  that  when 
you  have  been  at  Versailles  —  at  Versailles, 
where  the  king's  cabinets  have  glass  doors, 
and  where  every  lackey  carries  his  left  hand 
behind  him,  open  for  a  bribe  ?  Of  what  use 
is  it  to  me  to  know  that  Beaumarchais  has 
been  at  Hortalez  &  Company's  and  at  Ver 
sailles?  I  want  to  know  what  he  does  at 
Hortalez  &  Company's,  and  what  he  says  at 
Versailles.  If  you  can't  find  out,  there  are 
others  who  can.  And  if  you  don't  find  out, 
dam'  me  if  you  see  another  shilling  of  King 
George's !  As  for  you,  Penannech,  if  you 
don't  bring  me  word  for  word  any  interview 
of  Franklin's  that  I  want,  I'll  discharge  you. 
You  are  neither  of  you  worth  your  salt. 
But  Scheppers  is  worth  his  weight  in  hard 
money,  for  at  the  risk  of  his  neck  he  got 
into  the  Arsenal  last  night,  and  brings  me 
the  details  of  an  interview  between  the  Min 
ister  of  War  and  Baron  Steuben,  every  word 
of  which  is  to  the  point." 

The  face  of  Scheppers  was  full  of  triumph ; 
he  had  achieved  success.  There  is  this  to 

200 


The  British  Ambassador  loses  his  Temper 

be  said  for  him  —  he  belonged  to  the  under 
world  and  had  begun  life  as  a  gamin  of  Paris. 
In  Penannech's  eyes  there  was  an  ugly  look. 
He  was  not  going  to  give  up  without  a  strug 
gle  his  pleasant  existence  as  Comte  de  Pro- 
vost-Launay.  Grantugen  appeared  somewhat 
crestfallen. 

The  British  Ambassador  paced  to  and  fro, 
and  his  eyes  flashed  wrathfully  under  their 
puffy  lids. 

"  Give  your  commands,"  said  Penannech, 
coolly. 

"  I'll  give  'em  fast  enough,"  cried  his  lord 
ship,  "  and  if  you  fail  to  carry  them  out,  you'll 
play  the  Comte  de  Provost-Launay  for  the 
last  time.  There  will  be  a  meeting  on  Fri 
day  at  Passy  between  Franklin,  Beaumar- 
chais,  and  Steuben,  and  I  want  every  word 
of  it.  Do  you  understand  ?  " 

"  I  do." 

"  As  for  you,  Grantugen,"  continued  the 
ambassador,  "  you  are  to  find  out  exactly 
what  business  Beaumarchais  transacted  at 
Hortalez  £  Company's.  Am  I  clear?  " 

"  You  are,  milord." 

"  Begone ! " 

"  But  the  American  who  insulted  you  ? " 
inquired  Penannech. 

"  I  leave  that  fellow  in  the  hands  of  Schep- 
pers,"  snapped  his  lordship,  "  for  Scheppers 
does  what  he  undertakes." 


201 


CHAPTER   IX 

IN     WHICH     THE     COMTE     DE     PROVOST-LAUNAY 
RUINS    HIS    COAT    TO    KEEP    HIS    TITLE 

ON  Friday  M.  de  Beaumarchais  and  Eliot 
supped  at  Passy,  where  Beaumarchais  en 
livened  the  conversation  by  telling  Mr. 
Franklin  how  Brinton  had  conducted  him 
self  at  Versailles.  Mr.  Franklin  was  much 
amused  at  hearing  that  Brinton  had  told  the 
King  of  France  that  His  Majesty  bore  a 
striking  resemblance  to  a  certain  Joshua 
Lamb,  who  was  called  "  Mutton "  at  Yale. 
He  asked  Brinton  a  number  of  questions 
about  Yale,  remarked  that  he  had  visited 
New  Haven  when  he  was  colonial  postmas 
ter-general,  and  related  how  he  set  up  the 
mile-stones  on  the  old  post-road  between  Bos 
ton  and  Philadelphia.  He  said  he  invented 
a  machine,  which,  attached  to  a  chaise,  regis 
tered  by  the  revolution  of  the  wheels  the 
number  of  miles  travelled.  Then,  followed 
by  teams  loaded  with  mile-stones,  he  drove 
comfortably  over  the  road  in  his  chaise  and 
set  up  the  stones  by  the  record  of  the  ma 
chine.  It  was  delightful  to  hear  Mr.  Franklin. 
202 


Provost-Launay  ruins  his  Coat 

"  I  must  tell  you,"  said  he,  slowly,  "  a  story 
about  Dr.  Callender.  His  riding-wig  was  a 
common  one  of  horsehair  with  an  eelskin 
cue,  and  he  lost  it  in  a  remarkable  manner. 
He  was  called  one  evening  to  attend  a  patient 
who  was  ill  of  a  fever.  A  lighted  candle 
stood  upon  a  table,  and  when  he  was  occu 
pied  in  preparing  his  drugs,  his  head  came 
close  to  the  flame.  A  loud  explosion  fol 
lowed.  When  the  smoke  cleared,  the  doctor 
stood  bareheaded,  looking  in  vain  for  his  wig. 
He  could  not  explain  the  phenomenon.  I 
was  experimenting  with  electricity  at  that 
time,  and  he  wrote  to  me,  asking  my  advice 
as  to  the  feasibility  of  his  wearing  a  lightning- 
rod  on  his  back  and  running  it  up  through 
his  wig  to  avoid  in  future  a  similar  misfor 
tune.  I  was  about  to  send  him  a  reply  when 
I  received  a  second  letter  from  him,  explain 
ing  the  mystery.  His  new  wig  had  arrived, 
and  when  he  ordered  his  servant  to  powder 
it,  ere  he  put  it  on,  what  was  his  surprise  to 
see  his  negro  sprinkle  it  well  with  gun-pow 
der  from  a  powder-horn  in  place  of  starch !  " 

M.  de  Beaumarchais,  Mr.  Deane,  and  Brin- 
ton  laughed  heartily  at  the  curious  experience 
of  Dr.  Callender.  But  the  situation  was  too 
serious  for  merry  talk  to  last  long.  Beau 
marchais  referred  to  the  affair  at  the  Palais 
Royal,  and  Brinton  gave  Mr.  Franklin  a  clear 
account  of  what  had  happened,  and  concluded 
203 


Brinton  Eliot 

by  saying,  "  I'm  very  sorry  I  acted  as  I  did, 
but,  egad !     Mr.  Franklin,  I  couldn't  help  it." 

"  I  sympathize  with  your  feelings,"  said 
Mr.  Franklin,  slowly.  "  You  are  young.  It 
is  very  difficult  for  you  to  sit  still  and  listen 
to  such  things.  The  outrages  which  Great 
Britain  has  inflicted  upon  us  are  past  count 
ing.  Had  I  time  I  would  collect  them  all  in 
a  book,  that  every  child  in  America  might 
learn  them.  I  well  recall  the  ordeal  through 
which  I  had  to  pass  when  I  was  summoned 
before  the  privy  council  in  London.  I  stood 
for  two  hours  in  full  view  of  the  council,  lis 
tening  to  the  abuse  of  the  solicitor-general. 
I  must  confess  that  the  indecency  of  his  be 
havior  passed  all  bounds,  but  I  held  a  cool, 
sullen  silence,  reserving  myself  to  some  future 
opportunity.  The  suit  of  clothes  I  wore  on 
that  occasion  I  have  laid  by.  If  I  am  per 
mitted  some  day  to  sign  a  Treaty  of  Alliance 
between  France  and  the  United  States,  I  will 
wear  that  suit  of  clothes.  That  will  be  my 
answer  to  the  British  solicitor-general.  Amer 
ica,  Mr.  Eliot,  must  win  her  freedom  by  deeds 
and  not  by  words." 

At  that  moment  a  servant  entered  and  in 
formed  the  ambassador  that  two  gentlemen 
were  awaiting  his  pleasure  in  the  drawing-room. 

"  Who  are  they  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Franklin. 

"  One,  sir,  is  the  Comte  de  Provost-Launay, 
and  the  other,  the  Baron  Steuben." 
204 


Provost-Launay  ruins  his  Coat 

Mr.  Franklin  turned  in  his  chair  with  more 
agility  than  Brinton  had  ever  seen  him  dis 
play,  and  looked  at  the  man  as  though  he 
would  read  him  through  and  through. 

"  Did  they  come  together  ?  "  said  he. 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Ask  the  Baron  Steuben  to  step  into  my 
small  salon.  I  will  be  with  him  in  a 
moment." 

Unfortunately  Mr.  Franklin  said  nothing 
as  to  where  or  when  he  would  see  the  Comte 
de  Provost-Launay,  and  unfortunately  also 
the  Baron  Steuben,  who  had  missed  his 
snuff-box,  fancied  that  he  had  dropped  it  in 
his  carriage  and  went  back  to  the  courtyard. 
Therefore  when  the  servant  entered  the  large 
salon,  he  found  no  one  but  the  comte.  Pro 
vost-Launay,  carefully  powdered  and  dressed 
in  gray  silk  embroidered  in  silver,  was  look 
ing  at  himself  in  a  mirror,  reflecting  possibly 
that  unless  he  played  his  cards  well  it  might 
be  the  last  time  he  would  be  attired  in  such 
fashion.  He  had  just  picked  up  from  a  table 
and  put  in  his  pocket  a  small  gold  bonbon- 
mere  which  the  Marechale  de  Luxembourg 
had  forgotten  at  her  morning  visit. 

"  Can  you  tell  me,  sir,  where  Baron  Steu 
ben  is  ?  "  inquired  the  servant. 

"  How  should  I  know  ?  "  replied  the  comte 
with  the  manner  he  affected  toward  servants. 
**  Will  the  ambassador  see  me  ?  " 
205 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  The  ambassador  did  not  say,  sir.  Being 
at  table  he  charged  me  to  ask  the  Baron 
Steuben  to  wait  in  the  small  salon  where  he 
would  join  him  presently." 

"  In  that  case,"  said  the  comte,  quickly, 
"  the  baron  evidently  has  an  appointment, 
and  I  will  call  at  a  more  opportune  moment. 
M.  von  Steuben,  if  that  was  the  name  of  the 
gentleman  who  was  here  a  moment  ago,  has 
gone,  I  think,  to  the  courtyard.  You  had 
better  seek  him  there." 

The  Comte  de  Provost-Launay  certainly 
passed  with  remarkable  rapidity  from  com 
plete  ignorance  of  the  baron's  whereabouts 
to  knowledge  of  the  same.  If  this  occurred 
to  the  servant,  he  said  nothing  about  it,  and 
left  the  salon.  Provost-Launay  crossed  the 
room  at  once,  listened  a  moment  at  the  door 
of  the  small  salon,  and  then  opening  it,  went 
in,  and  closed  the  door  quietly.  A  silver 
candlestick  with  three  branches  was  on  the 
table,  and  the  three  candles  were  burning, 
but  they  were  not  sufficient  to  light  the  apart 
ment  well.  The  comte  stepped  to  the  win 
dow,  and  concealed  himself  behind  the  heavy 
green  curtain.  "  Bah ! "  said  he,  suddenly. 
"  This  room  is  warm  now.  They  might  want 
more  air."  He  came  from  behind  the  curtain, 
and  looking  about  him,  discovered  a  small 
door  back  of  the  printing-press  which  stood 
in  one  corner,  and  upon  opening  it,  found  a 
206 


Provost-Launay  ruins  his  Coat 

closet  in  which  Mr.  Franklin  kept  his  fonts 
of  type  and  his  ink.  It  was  not  the  best 
place  in  the  world  for  gray  silk  embroidered 
in  silver,  but  Provost-Launay  popped  into  it, 
drew  the  door  to,  leaving  it  very  slightly 
ajar,  and  awaited  developments.  In  a  few 
moments  the  door  of  the  small  salon  was 
opened,  and  a  man  entered,  snuff-box  in 
hand,  —  a  thick-set,  red-faced  man,  with 
black  eyebrows  and  a  white  wig  tied  in 
a  black  bag,  who  wore  a  uniform  with 
heavy  gold  epaulets,  and  carried  himself  as 
ramrod-like  as  a  Prussian  grenadier.  Well 
he  might !  For  he  was  the  Baron  Frederick 
William  Augustus  von  Steuben,  sometime 
adjutant-general  to  His  Majesty  Frederick 
the  Great. 

Almost  immediately  Mr.  Franklin,  M.  de 
Beaumarchais,  Mr.  Deane,  and  Brinton  Eliot 
came  into  the  room,  not  by  way  of  the  large 
salon,  but  by  Mr.  Franklin's  private  door. 
After  an  exchange  of  the  usual  civilities,  the 
ambassador  apologized  for  having  kept  the 
baron  waiting,  and  then  Brinton  was  pre 
sented  to  Steuben,  who  said  with  a  marked 
German  accent,  "Bon  soir,  monsieur? 

"  M.  le  Baron,"  said  Mr.  Franklin,  "  M.  de 
Vergennes  and  the  Comte  de  St.  Germain 
have  sent  us  word  through  Mr.  Deane  that 
you  have  considered  favorably  the  matter  we 
talked  of  some  two  months  ago,  and  that  you 
207 


Brinton  Eliot 

have  decided  to  go  to  America.  In  view  of 
the  sacrifices  you  make  for  the  United  States, 
I  can  feebly  express  to  you,  sir,  our  thanks, 
and  how  much  we  feel  ourselves  indebted  to 
you  for  this  step.  Mr.  Eliot's  ship,  the  Fla- 
mand,  is  now  at  Marseilles.  Through  the 
efforts  of  M.  de  Beaumarchais  she  is  being 
equipped  with  arms  and  ammunition,  and,  I 
trust,  will  be  ready  to  sail  shortly." 

"GanZjgutt  I  thank  you,"  said  the  baron, 
in  both  French  and  German,  a  way  he  had 
at  times. 

"  If  you  need  money,  M.  le  Baron,"  said 
Beaumarchais,  "  a  thousand  louis  d'or  are  at 
your  service." 

"  I  thank  you  also,  monsieur.  What  I  may 
accept  will  be  for  travelling  expenses  only. 
It  I  shall  consider  a  personal  loan." 

"  But,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Franklin,  with  some 
anxiety  in  his  tone,  "  what  conditions  do  you 
propose  to  recompense  you  for  the  sacrifices 
you  make,  and  for  the  great  services  you  will 
render  the  United  States?" 

The  Baron  Steuben  held  his  shoulders  a 
trifle  more  stifHy  than  usual,  if  that  were  pos 
sible.  He  was  above  pecuniary  considera 
tions. 

"  I    do    not   propose,  sir.     Vergennes   has 

said,  '  Go !  succeed  !     You  will  regret  never.' 

Rechtl     I  have  served  well,  I  hope,  the  King 

of   Prussia.     It  is  now  the  Republic   I  will 

208 


Provost-Launay  ruins  his  Coat 

serve.  But  indeed  I  know  that  for  a  stranger 
into  your  army  to  come  is  not  so  easy.  Well 
then,  I  serve  as  volunteer,  without  pay,  with 
out  rank.  Can  there  be  discontent  ?  Amer 
ica  is  struggling  for  liberty.  Ganz  gut!  I 
offer  her  my  sword." 

Then  and  there  Mr.  Franklin  embraced 
him.  And  in  such  fashion  Frederick  William 
Augustus,  Baron  von  Steuben,  sometime 
adjutant-general  to  His  Majesty  Frederick 
the  Great,  took  his  stand  beneath  the  Stars 
and  Stripes. 

"  M.  le  Baron,"  said  Beaumarchais,  "  how 
soon  will  it  suit  you  to  start  ?  " 

"  In  a  week  at  the  most,  I  think.  Monsieur 
Duponceau,  my  secretary,  will  go  with  me." 

"  I  shall  be  much  relieved,"  said  Beaumar 
chais,  "when  you  and  Monsieur  Eliot  are 
out  of  Paris." 

"  It  is  because  you  are  thinking  of  the 
British  Ambassador,  hein  ?  Oh !  as  for  him, 
kann  sick  zum  Teufel  scheeren  !  "  ("  He  may 
go  to  the  devil !  ") 

"  I  should  not  regret,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Frank 
lin,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eyes,  "  had  he  gone 
already.  Ho\vever,  I  give  it  as  my  humble 
opinion  that  he  will  arrive  there  in  due  time. 
I  will  give  you  letters,  M.  le  Baron,  to  Gen 
eral  Washington,  to  Samuel  Adams,  and  to 
Robert  Morris,  and  I  am  certain  you  will  re 
ceive  a  hearty  welcome  from  Congress." 
P  209 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  Ganz  gut  f     I  thank  you." 

As  the  room  was  somewhat  warm,  Mr. 
Deane  asked  Brinton  to  open  the  window, 
and  the  Comte  de  Provost-Launay,  whose  ear 
was  glued  to  the  crack  at  the  closet  door, 
congratulated  himself  on  his  foresight. 

In  a  few  moments  the  baron  rose  and  said 
good  night,  but  every  one  escorted  him  to  his 
carriage.  When  he  had  gone,  Beaumarchais 
took  Brinton  in  his  cabriolet  and  drove  back 
to  Paris.  Mr.  Franklin  and  Mr.  Deane  were 
left  alone  on  the  steps  of  the  chateau. 

"  Bless  my  soul !  Mr.  Franklin,"  exclaimed 
Deane,  "  we've  quite  forgotten  the  Comte  de 
Provost-Launay." 

"  Not  at  all,"  replied  Mr.  Franklin,  quietly. 
"  Jacques  must  have  hinted  that  I  was  en 
gaged,  for  he  came  to  tell  me  that  the  comte 
said  he  would  call  again  at  a  more  opportune 
moment." 

"  I  think  the  comte  is  a  warm  friend  of  the 
United  States,"  said  Deane. 

"  He  professes  to  be,"  said  Mr.  Franklin, 
"  but  I  place  no  confidence  in  him,  and  I  de 
sire  that  you  should  do  the  same." 

Meanwhile,  in  the  closet  behind  the  print 
ing-press,  a  gray  silk  coat  embroidered  in  sil 
ver  had  been  sadly  smirched  by  fonts  of  dirty 
type;  there  were  ink  stains,  too,  on  white 
silk  stockings.  In  fact  the  black  villainy  of 
the  Comte  de  Provost-Launay  seemed  to  have 

210 


Provost-Launay  ruins  his  Coat 

broken  out  all  over  him,  like  the  small-pox. 
He  came  quickly  out  of  the  closet,  rubbing 
one  of  his  legs,  which  was  stiff  from  his 
cramped  position,  and  then  walking  through 
the  window,  which  opened  like  a  door  upon 
the  low  balcony,  jumped  lightly  to  the  ground. 
His  carriage  was  in  waiting,  but  on  such  a 
night,  he  was  too  old  a  hand  to  leave  it  in 
the  courtyard.  He  reached  it  by  a  path  best 
known  to  himself,  for  he  had  studied  the 
topography  of  Passy  for  the  past  six  months, 
and  once  inside,  he  was  driven  rapidly  to  the 
British  Embassy. 


211 


CHAPTER   X 

IN    WHICH    MRS.    KEAYNE    ALLEN    HAS    IDEAS 

MAJOR  BINGHAM  took  up  his  quarters  at 
Westwood,  but  for  the  first  three  days  he 
found  small  satisfaction  there.  Mr.  Allen  ex 
changed  few  words  with  him.  Miss  Allen, 
who  was  ill  and  very  unhappy,  did  not  leave 
her  room.  Mrs.  Allen  endeavored  to  be  cor 
dial  but  was  evidently  worried.  Bingham 
spent  the  greater  part  of  his  time  drinking  at 
the  "  Pewter  Platter,"  or  at  the  "  Bunch  of 
Grapes,"  attending  cock  fights,  and  rehears 
ing  for  the  play  in  the  theatre  on  South 
Street. 

On  Friday  morning  the  Pelican  arrived 
from  England,  and  the  tap-room  of  the  Coffee 
House  was  full  of  British  officers  who  had 
come  to  get  their  letters.  A  score  of  red 
coats  were  drinking  rum  at  the  expense  of 
Captain  Amesbury,  who  held  under  his  arm 
a  cock  which  had  lost  an  eye,  and  was  spend 
ing  the  bird's  winnings  freely.  Dice  boxes 
rattled  merrily,  men  staked  sovereigns  on  the 
turn  of  a  card,  and  there  was  an  abundance 
of  tobacco  smoke  and  profanity. 

212 


Mrs.    Keayne    Allen    has    Ideas 

"  It's  your  play,  Tarleton,"  said  Bingham, 
picking  up  his  cards. 

"  No,"  replied  Tarleton,  "  it's  DeLancey  V 

"  DeLancey,"  said  Bingham,  "you're  damna 
bly  slow.  Wake  up  !  The  stake  is  a  guinea." 
And  he  flipped  a  gold  coin  on  the  table. 

At  that  moment  Andre  hit  him  on  the 
shoulder. 

"  I've  been  looking  for  you,"  said  Andre. 
"  Do  you  know  why  Miss  Allen  was  not  at 
the  assembly  last  night  ?  When  I  saw  her 
on  Monday,  she  promised  me  a  minuet." 

Bingham  was  not  going  to  admit  that,  al 
though  he  was  quartered  at  Westwood,  he 
had  not  seen  Miss  Allen,  and  he  was  unwill 
ing  also  to  say  he  had  been  told  she  was  ill, 
for  he  feared  that  Andre  would  declare  at 
once  that  it  was  small  wonder  when  a  person 
so  disagreeable  to  her  put  in  an  appearance, 
twit  him  unmercifully,  and  cause  a  general 
laugh  at  his  expense.  He  had  not  gone  to 
the  assembly  himself,  and  he  knew  that  at  the 
moment  Andre  had  no  means  of  finding  out 
that  he  had  been  at  the  "  Pewter  Platter." 

"  Bah !  "  said  he,  "  she  will  none  of  you.  I 
dare  say  she  found  my  conversation  agreeable 
enough,  for  she  never  mentioned  the  assem 
bly,  and  it  was  evident  that  she  preferred  to 
talk  to  me." 

"  Egad !  "  exclaimed  Andre,  "  that's  a  likely 
story!" 

213 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  Believe  it,  or  not,  as  you  choose,"  said 
Bingham,  carelessly.  "  It's  a  matter  of  indif 
ference  to  me.  I  told  you  the  other  day  you'd 
be  wiser  in  a  fortnight." 

"  I  choose  not  to  believe,"  said  Andre, 
laughing.  "  What  the  deuce  do  you  leave 
your  letters  on  the  floor  for  ? " 

"  Is  it  mine  ? "  inquired  Bingham,  looking 
down. 

"  Of  course  it  is." 

"  Ods !  "  said  Bingham,  picking  it  up,  "  I 
had  six  or  eight.  I  must  have  dropped  this 
one." 

He  ripped  the  envelope  with  his  finger  and 
drew  out  the  letter. 

"  Play,  my  buck ! "  said  Tarleton. 

Bingham,  who  was  reading  his  letter,  tossed 
a  card  on  the  table  without  looking  at  it. 

"The  devil!"  cried  DeLancey.  "The 
stakes  are  Bingham's." 

"  Od's  life  !  "  exclaimed  Bingham,  starting 
up,  "  the  old  man's  shuffled  off !  Congratu 
late  me,  boys.  I'm  Earl  of  Harborough." 

There  was  a  chorus  of  "  The  deuce  you 
are ! " 

"  Read  for  yourself,"  said  Bingham,  laugh 
ing  and  tossing  the  letter  to  Andre.  "  Per 
haps  this  time  you'll  choose  to  believe." 

"  Zounds  !  "    exclaimed    Tarleton,  shoving 
the    guineas    across    the    table,    "you're    a 
damned  lucky  dog,  Bingham." 
214 


Mrs.    Keayne    Allen    has    Ideas 

"  Don't  be  so  cursed  familiar,"  said  the  lat 
ter,  laughing.  "  I'm  George,  twelfth  Earl  of 
Harborough." 

The  new  earl  rode  to  West  wood  that  after 
noon  in  a  very  contented  frame  of  mind. 
He  had  seen  enough  of  Mrs.  Keayne  Allen 
to  know  that  the  change  in  his  position  would 
make  a  distinct  impression  upon  her,  and  he 
meant  to  push  matters  to  a  conclusion.  He 
was  not  wrong.  Mrs.  Allen,  who  had  not 
been  informed  of  her  husband's  financial  rela 
tions  with  Judge  Shippen,  had  received  the 
announcement  that  Mr.  Allen  desired  Betty 
to  marry  Edward  with  not  a  little  vexation, 
for  Mrs.  Allen  and  Mrs.  Shippen  were  social 
rivals  and  at  odds.  Without  fully  under 
standing  the  cause  of  her  daughter's  unhappi- 
ness,  she  saw  that  the  affair  had  made  her 
very  wretched,  and  she  determined  to  prevent 
the  match  for  her  owrn  sake  and  for  Betty's. 
But  to  triumph  in  proper  fashion  it  was  neces 
sary  to  substitute  for  Edward  Shippen  some 
one,  who,  from  her  point  of  viewr,  was  higher 
in  the  social  scale,  and  that  was  not  easy  at 
the  moment.  In  the  midst  of  Mrs.  Allen's 
perplexity  the  new  Earl  of  Harborough  ar 
rived,  and  the  sky  cleared  up  at  once.  It 
made  little  difference  to  Mrs.  Allen  that  the 
fellow  she  desired  for  a  son-in-law  was  in  arms 
against  her  country,  for  her  world  was  Phila 
delphia  from  the  Delaware  to  the  Schuylkill, 


Brinton  Eliot 

and  from  her  standpoint  everybody  who  was 
anybody  stood  by  the  king.  There  were,  of 
course,  exceptions,  like  Mrs.  Chauncey  Win- 
throp  ;  but  that  was  unfortunate.  Mrs.  Allen 
was  an  aristocrat  and  much  more  Tory  than 
her  husband.  The  Harborough  arms  — 
argent,  a  chevron  gules  between  three  tor- 
teauxes  —  filled  her  with  delight.  With  those 
arms  on  the  panels  of  Betty's  carriage,  and 
Betty,  Countess  of  Harborough,  she  could 
snap  her  fingers  at  Mrs.  Shippen  for  good 
and  all.  Mrs.  Allen,  therefore,  made  up  her 
mind  and  marked  out  her  course,  not  without 
some  misgivings,  however,  for  in  thinking  of 
the  way  in  which  her  daughter  had  always 
treated  Major  George  Bingham,  she  wondered 
how  Betty  would  treat  George,  twelfth  Earl 
of  Harborough.  That  evening,  therefore, 
Mrs.  Allen  broached  the  subject  to  her  hus 
band. 

"  Keayne,"  said  she,  "  this  Shippen  affair 
has  made  Betty  really  ill,  and  'tis  amazing 
you  don't  see  it." 

"  I  do  see  it,"  said  Mr.  Allen,  nervously, 
"  and  I  am  distressed  that  Betty  feels  as  she 
does.  I  wish  you  wouldn't  talk  about  it." 

"  But  I  must  talk  about  it,  Keayne.  I  am 
considering  Betty's  future.  I  grant  you  that 
the  Shippens  are  all  very  well,  but  Betty  can 
do  much  better." 

"  I  wish  you  would  explain  what  you  mean." 
216 


Mrs.    Keayne    Allen    has    Ideas 

"  I  mean  that  the  Earl  of  Harborough  asked 
me  this  afternoon  for  Betty's  hand." 

"  Damn  his  impudence  !  "  cried  Mr.  Allen, 
jumping  up  from  his  chair.  "  Does  the  fellow 
fancy  I  am  to  be  set  aside  in  such  a  matter  ? 
I  don't  care  tuppence  for  his  title,  and  as 
for  Betty,  she  wouldn't  have  him  if  the  Har- 
boroughs  owned  all  Kent  and  Sussex." 

"  Keayne  Allen,  you  are  talking  exactly  like 
a  Whig." 

"  I'm  not  a  Whig,  Lucy,  but  this  sort 
of  thing  is  enough  to  make  me  one.  My 
daughter  shall  not  marry  a  British  officer. 
I'm  not  Tory  enough  for  that,  dam'  me  if 
I  am ! " 

"  'Tis  my  belief  that  you  have  been  waver 
ing  for  the  past  six  months,  and  now  I  doubt 
very  much  whether  you  are  a  Tory  at  all." 

"  I  might  do  worse  than  become  a  Whig," 
remarked  Mr.  Allen. 

"  You  could  not  do  worse,"  said  Mrs.  Allen. 
"  The  Whigs  have  very  little  social  position 
here." 

"  If  Betty  does  not  marry  Edward  Shippen, 
we  may  have  little  social  position  ourselves 
before  long." 

Mrs.  Allen  was  naturally  very  much  sur 
prised. 

"  Keayne,"  said  she,  "  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Simply  this.  A  little  more  than  two 
years  ago  I  was  optimistic  enough  not  to 
217 


Brinton   Eliot 

anticipate  the  war,  and  I  borrowed  ,£10,000 
from  Judge  Shippen.  In  ordinary  times  I 
could  have  adjusted  the  matter  very  easily, 
but  in  the  present  depressed  state  of  affairs  I 
cannot  realize  on  my  property  without  the 
most  ruinous  sacrifice.  To  have  things  as 
you  want  them  takes  every  shilling  of  our  in 
come.  You  know  that.  Judge  Shippen  is  set 
on  Edward's  marrying  Betty.  If  Betty  con 
sents,  everything  will  remain  as  it  is  until  I 
can  meet  my  obligations  in  proper  fashion. 
If  she  does  not,  there  will  be  a  crash,  I 
would  allow  the  crash  to  come  rather  than 
propose  to  Betty  a  match  which  was  unworthy 
of  her,  but  Edward  Shippen  is  fit  in  every 
way,  and  his  family  are  all  that  one  can  de 
sire.  I  think  that  Betty  ought  to  waive  any 
sentiment  she  may  have,  for  she  can  learn  to 
love  Edward  perfectly  well." 

"You  owe  Judge  Shippen £i 0,000 ?"  said 
Mrs.  Allen,  aghast. 

« I  do." 

"  Under  such  circumstances  I  would  sooner 
die  than  have  Betty  marry  Edward.  I  can 
not  endure  Mrs.  Shippen.  You  know  I 
can't !  She  would  triumph  over  me  all  her 
life,  It  is  too  humiliating  to  be  thought  of. 
Betty  must  marry  the  earl.  Then  let  the 
crash  come  if  it  must.  I  could  bear  that 
better  than  the  other,  for  my  daughter  would 
have  refused  Mrs.  Shippen's  son,  and  I 
218 


Mrs.    Keayne    Allen    has    Ideas 

should   be  the  mother   of    the    Countess  of 
Harborough." 

"  Lucy,"  said  Mr.  Allen,  with  some  warmth, 
"  you  are  mad.  Mrs.  Shippen  knows  nothing 
of  this  matter*  and  neither  does  Edward.  I 
have  Judge  Shippen's  word  for  that.  As  for 
Harborough,  I  am  sure  that  Betty  will 


never  —  " 


11  She  must." 

"  But  she  won't,"  replied  Mr.  Allen,  "  and 
neither  will  I." 

Mrs.  Allen  burst  into  tears,  and  Mn  Allen 
softened  at  once. 

"  Lucy,"  said  he,  "  do  listen  to  reason." 

"No  I     I  won't  listen  to  anything." 

"  When  you  are  calmer,  we'll  talk  of  it 
again." 

"  I  shall  never  be  calm  !  " 

"  I  trust  you  will  be,  to-morrow/'  said 
Mr.  Allen,  as  he  left  the  library. 

Neither  he  nor  Mrs.  Allen  dreamed  that 
the  Earl  of  Harborough,  who  had  come  in 
late,  had  overheard  his  name  mentioned,  and 
had  lingered  long  enough  in  the  hall  to  under 
stand  the  greater  part  of  their  conversation". 


219 


CHAPTER   XI 

THE    ROAD   TO    GERMANTOWN 

Miss  ALLEN  had  not  yet  learned  the  truth. 
The  knowledge  of  her  father's  obligations, 
and  the  fact  that  under  such  circumstances 
he  had  consented  to  her  marriage,  would  have 
been  a  severe  shock  to  her.  As  it  was,  she 
was  ill  for  forty-eight  hours,  and  for  the  mo 
ment  life  itself  appeared  a  mockery  and  a 
malicious  sham.  She  wished  to  see  no  one, 
and  alone  in  her  room  she  fought  the  battle. 
Had  she  loved  her  father  less,  the  strife  would 
have  been  less  stern.  Mr.  Edward  Shippen 
called  every  day  to  inquire  how  she  was,  and 
his  flowers,  which  were  promptly  brought 
into  her  apartment,  and  as  promptly  sent  out 
again,  kept  constantly  in  her  mind  the  inflexi 
bility  of  that  parental  authority  which  was 
to  lose  its  grip  in  the  succeeding  century, 
but  of  which  Judge  Shippen  was  then  the 
apotheosis. 

On  Saturday  Edward  Shippen  called  for 
the  fifth  time,  and  was  ushered  into  the 
music-room,  where  he  found  Mrs.  Keayne 
Allen  and  a  British  officer,  a  tall,  florid  man, 

220 


The    Road    to    Germantown 

brilliant  in  scarlet  and  gold  lace.  "  Edward," 
said  Mrs.  Allen,  "let  me  present  you  to 
the  Earl  of  Harborough."  The  two  men 
bowed,  but  at  the  first  glance  each  disliked 
the  other. 

"  How  is  Betty  to-day,  Mrs.  Allen  ?  "  in 
quired  Shippen. 

"  Much  better,  thank  you." 

If  there  was  any  doubt  about  the  matter,  it 
was  speedily  ended,  for  Betty  came  into  the 
room,  looking  slightly  pale  to  be  sure,  but 
very  handsome  in  her  dark  green  brunswick, 
with  velvet  lapels  and  buttons,  and  her 
black  cottage  bonnet  with  green  plumes. 
She  carried  a  riding  whip  and  her  gloves. 
Whatever  the  sufferings  of  the  past  week 
had  been,  and  to  what  decision  she  had  come, 
were  known  to  her  alone.  Miss  Allen  seemed 
herself  again. 

"  Good  morning,  Edward.  Good  morning, 
major/'  said  Betty. 

"  My  dear,"  remarked  Mrs.  Allen,  "  the  Earl 
of  Harborough." 

"  Ah,  true  enough,"  said  Betty,  laughing. 
"  That  seems  to  fit  you  oddly,  major.  I  can't 
accustom  myself  to  it." 

"  In  that  case,"  replied  the  earl,  laughing 
in  his  turn,  "you  are  privileged  to  call  me 
what  you  please." 

"  Thank  you.  I  usually  do  so.  The 
weather  is  perfect,  and  I  think  a  ride  will  do 

221 


Brinton  Eliot 

me  good.  You  may  come  if  you  like,  major, 
provided  Mr.  Shippen  will  come  too." 

"  I  should  be  delighted  to  ride,"  said  Ed 
ward,  not  a  little  provoked  that  Harborough 
was  invited  also. 

"  Ods !  Miss  Allen,"  said  the  earl,  "  is  it 
an  invitation  or  a  command  ?  " 

"  Whichever  you  please,  major,"  said  Betty, 
in  a  tone  of  indifference. 

"  If  it  is  an  invitation,  I  shall  be  charmed 
to  accept.  If  it  is  a  command,  I  shall  be 
happy  to  obey,"  replied  Harborough,  bowing 
gallantly. 

The  bow  appeared  lost  on  Miss  Allen,  who 
rang  a  bell  promptly  and  ordered  her  horse. 
Harborough  ordered  his,  and  Shippen's  horse 
was  already  in  waiting. 

"  I  suppose,  Edward,"  said  Betty,  suddenly, 
"that  before  you  can  ride  you'll  have  to  have 
your  father's  permission." 

Young  Shippen  was  much  mortified  and 
grew  very  red. 

"  I  think  I  can  dispense  with  that,"  said  he, 
somewhat  briskly. 

"Oh,"  replied  Betty,  "I  didn't  know.  I 
merely  thought  I'd  inquire."  Mrs.  Allen 
smiled  in  spite  of  herself,  and  Harborough 
laughed  in  his  sleeve. 

The  horses  were  brought,  and  in  a  few 
moments  Miss  Allen,  Mr.  Shippen,  and  the 
Earl  of  Harborough  galloped  down  the  leaf- 

222 


The    Road    to    Germantown 

strewn  drive  and  took  the  road  to  German- 
town. 

The  world  was  all  aflame,  for  the  road  was 
full  of  scarlet,  —  the  scarlet  of  the  King  of  Eng 
land,  his  scarlet  and  his  gold,  in  which  was 
tyranny.  The  woods  too  were  full  of  scarlet, 
for  October  had  blazoned  the  boughs  with 
the  scarlet  of  the  King  of  kings,  His  scarlet 
and  His  gold,  which  know  not  tyranny. 
And  houses  likewise  were  full  of  scarlet  — 
bright  tongues  of  flame  that  leaped  and 
roared,  ripping  steep  roofs  and  blackening 
pent-eaves  and  ponderous  cornices.  North 
ward  from  the  redoubts  at  Poplar  Street 
they  blazed,  seventeen  of  them,  as  one  could 
count  them  from  the  steeple  of  Christ  Church, 
the  country-seats  of  Philadelphia's  quality, 
fast  in  the  red  grip  of  those  foul  camp-follow 
ers  which  marched  ever  in  the  wake  of  the 
armies  of  His  Britannic  Majesty  —  arson 
and  pillage.  The  world  was  all  aflame. 
God  save  the  King ! 

Over  the  Germantown  road  the  coaches 
and  chaises  of  fashionable  people  were  no 
longer  rolling ;  and  Miss  Allen,  Harborough, 
and  Shippen,  riding  rapidly,  met  and  passed 
wagons  loaded  with  stones,  creaking  slowly 
toward  the  redoubts,  and  Hessians,  with 
guns  trailing  and  poultry  slung  over  their 
shoulders,  driving  pigs  before  them,  which 
they  prodded  with  their  bayonets ;  for  foray 
223 


Brinton  Eliot 

was  afoot,  and  Philadelphia  was  a  city 
sieged. 

Betty  was  in  a  reckless  mood.  She  rode 
a  bright  bay  horse,  the  Musketeer,  with 
which  Harborough's  black  and  Shippen's 
gray  kept  pace  unevenly,  and  it  was  her 
good  pleasure  to  leave  them  in  the  lurch 
from  time  to  time.  At  such  moments  Har- 
borough  glanced  scornfully  at  Shippen,  and 
gave  his  horse  the  spur. 

"  Od's  life ! "  exclaimed  the  earl,  overtaking 
Betty  after  a  rapid  gallop,  "  is  this  a  steeple 
chase  ? " 

"  You  can  pull  up,  major,  if  the  pace  dis 
pleases  you." 

"And  leave  the  road  clear  for  a  young 
puppy?  Dam'  me  if  I  will!  You've  treated 
me  badly  enough  to  warrant  me  in  leaving 
the  road  clear.  But  I  won't!  I  ride  hard 
after  you.  And,  egad !  I  overtake  you,  too." 

"  Indeed  ?     Who  bid  you  ride  hard,  sir  ?  " 

"  I  bid  myself.  When  a  man  loves  a 
woman,  is  he  to  pull  up  straightway  because 
the  woman  says  him  nay  ?  You  know  I  love 
you." 

"  I  know  nothing  of  the  kind." 

"  To  prove  it  I'll  marry  you." 

"  This  is  unbearable,  sir,"  said  Betty,  wrath- 
fully. 

"  Fume  as  much  as  you  please,"  said  Har- 
borough,  coolly.  "You'll  marry  me  in  the  end." 
224 


The   Road   to   Germantown 

"  I  won't !  " 

"So  you  said  before,  the  day  your  horse 
ran  into  the  river.  However,  I  notice  you 
have  not  married  any  one  else,  and  you  see 
I  am  still  here." 

"Yes,  you  are  still  here,  you  and  yours. 
And  how  do  you  conduct  yourselves  ?  " 

"  Like  conquerors." 

"  Conquerors  !     Of  what,  pray  ?  "  ' , 

"  Of  you  and  the  colonies." 

"  Indeed !  You  will  conquer  neither. 
And  as  far  as  I  am  concerned,  if  you  were  the 
last  man  in  the  world,  I  would  not  marry  you." 

"  But  as  I  am  not  the  last  man  in  the 
world,  you  will  marry  me,  eh  ? " 

"  Major  Bingham,  you  may  go  back  to 
town." 

"  Major  Bingham  is  not  here,  Miss  Allen," 
said  he,  laughing,  "  and  the  Earl  of  Harbor- 
ough  declines  to  comply  with  that  request." 

Betty  was  sorely  tried. 

"  When  I  asked  you  to  ride,"  said  she,  "  I 
did  not  imagine  that  you  would  presume  to 
talk  in  this  fashion." 

"  Faith  !  You  were  wrong,  then.  But, 
pray,  how  do  I  presume  ?  I  fancy  I  have  a 
right  to  ask  you  to  marry  me,  and  if  I  won't 
take  No  for  an  answer,  why,  that's  my  affair." 

"  This  is  insufferable !  "   exclaimed    Betty, 
desperately.      "  I  won't  endure   it.      I   shall 
turn  back  for  Mr.  Shippen." 
Q  225 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  Od's  blood  !  That  silly  ass !  Do  you 
mean  to  tell  me  you  care  for  him  ? " 

"  How  dare  you !  " 

"  I  dare,"  said  he,  coolly,  as  he  brought  his 
black  horse  close  to  the  Musketeer,  "  because 
I  know  the  whole  affair  from  A  to  Zed." 

"  Major  Bingham,"  said  Betty,  nervously, 
"  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

At  that  moment  Shippen  overtook  them. 

"  Betty,"  said  he,  "  I  think  we  are  ventur 
ing  too  far.  There  is  the  Rising  Sun  tav 
ern.  Me  Lane  is  abroad,  and  —  " 

"  Nonsense,  Edward  !  I  am  not  afraid  of 
Me  Lane.  I'm  as  good  a  Whig  as  he  is.  If 
you  are  not,  you  ought  to  be." 

"Go  home!"  said  Harborough,  contemptu 
ously.  "  Go  home  to  your  dad  !  " 

Shippen  whirled  his  horse  to  the  right,  and 
lashed  the  earl  with  his  riding-whip. 

"  Damn  you  !  "  cried  Harborough,  furi 
ously.  "  I'll  kill  you  for  that !  " 

Young  Shippen  had  asserted  himself  at 
last,  and  there  was  good  blood  in  him,  as  in 
all  the  Shippens. 

"  Na —  name  your  time  and  place/'  said  he, 
stammering  in  his  wrath. 

Miss  Allen  turned  her  horse  and  rode 
between  them. 

"  Edward,"  said  she,  decidedly,  "  this  must 
stop.     You  ought  to  beg  Major  BinghanVs 
pardon,  and  he  your  pardon,  also." 
226 


The  Road  to  Germantown 

"  Dam'  me,  if  I  do ! "  exclaimed  Harbor- 
ough,  angrily.  "  This  fellow  fancies,  no 
doubt,  that  because  your  father  is  debtor  to 
his  in  a  matter  of  some  thousands  of  pounds, 
he  can  threat  you  into  marriage.  You  young 
fool,  the  Earl  of  Harborough  will  stand  surety 
for  Mr,  Allen0  Go  home  and  tell  your  dad  !  " 

Betty  turned  pale ;  the  earth  seemed  to 
be  cracking  into  chasms  beneath  her  horse's 
hoofs.  Edward  Shippen  was  dumfounded, 

"  Betty,"  said  he,  "  can  this  be  true  ?  " 

Absorbed  as  they  were,  they  had  seen 
nothing,  and  Shippen's  question  was  lost  in 
sudden  shouts,  much  galloping,  and  the  war- 
whoop.  From  White  Marsh  way  there  swept 
into  the  road  a  score  of  leather-breeched  troop 
ers  and  a  score  of  painted  Indians,  riding  hard 
at  the  heels  of  that  dashing  freebooter,  who 
hovered  hawk-like  within  gunshot  of  the  Pop 
lar  Street  redoubts,  Captain  McLane.  Har 
borough  ripped  out  an  oath  and  drew  his 
sword,  while  the  black  horse  threw  up  his 
head,  snorting.  Miss  Allen's  bay  whirled 
viciously,  half  rearing  in  alarm,  and  Shippen's 
mount  backed  suddenly  into  the  bushes. 
But  the  band  surged  about  them  swiftly,  and 
the  thing  was  done.  On  every  side  they  were 
blocked  by  sturdy,  rough-coated  fellows  in 
brown  and  buff,  or  by  savages,  war-painted 
and  with  feathers  in  their  scalp-locks. 

"A  redcoat!"  cried  McLane,  triumphantly. 
227 


Brinton  Eliot 

"A  redcoat  and  two  Tories!  Not  a  bad 
catch !  My  gamecocks,  I  would  learn  your 
names  and  quality,  and  that  of  Mistress 
Tory  likewise,  for  you  are  all  my  prisoners." 

Betty  started  her  horse  toward  Me  Lane. 

"  I'm  as  good  a  Whig  as  you  are,"  she  said 
stubbornly,  "and  you  have  no  right  to  stop 
me  on  the  highway." 

And  with  that,  she  wheeled  suddenly  to 
the  left,  and  before  a  hand  could  catch  her 
bridle,  she  was  galloping  across  country.  It 
was  done  in  a  flash,  as  when  a  hare  doubles 
on  the  pack,  but  half  a  dozen  Indians  raised 
the  war-whoop  and  started  after  her. 

"  Come  back,  you  red  devils ! "  shouted 
McLane.  "  I  don't  make  war  on  women. 
They  can't  many  of  'em  handle  a  horse  like 
that.  Burn  my  body  !  how  she  rides  !  " 

Three  of  the  savages  pulled  up  at  Mc- 
Lane's  call,  but  the  others  kept  on,  yelling 
in  frantic  fashion  as  their  gaunt  steeds 
strained  across  the  meadow.  Before  them 
the  bay  Musketeer  swept  on,  rejoicing  in  his 
strength.  It  was  a  gallant  sight  to  see 
Betty,  in  her  dark  green  brunswick,  sit  her 
saddle.  A  rough  rail  fence  stretched  through 
the  meadow-land ;  it  was  heavy  enough  and 
high  enough  to  settle  the  question  for  pur 
suers  and  pursued.  Without  an  instant's 
hesitation  the  Musketeer  took  it,  and  took  it 
clean.  Two  of  the  Indians'  horses  balked, 
228 


The  Road  to  Germantown 

while  the  third,  leaping,  crashed  on  the  rails 
and  pitched  forward,  hurling  his  painted  rider 
before  him. 

Miss  Allen  had  made  good  her  escape,  but 
the  Earl  of  Harborough  and  Mr.  Edward 
Shippen  were  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy. 


229 


CHAPTER   XII 

IN    WHICH    MR.    FRANKLIN    FLIES    A    KITE 

IT  was  raining  in  Paris ;  it  was  raining  also 
in  Passy.  The  lime  trees  which  surrounded 
the  crescent-shaped  terrace  in  the  garden  of  the 
Hotel  de  Valentinois  were  dripping ;  the  mar 
ble  Proserpine  in  the  centre  of  the  terrace  was 
drenched ;  and  from  the  hills  of  Meudon, 
across  the  Seine,  dark  thunder-clouds  were 
drifting  through  a  leaden  sky.  The  high  artil 
lery  rolled  and  rumbled  and  roared  and 
crashed,  splitting  the  dark  clouds,  and  shaking 
the  houses  on  the  hill  of  Passy.  The  wherry- 
man  of  the  Isle  of  Swans,  who  in  fair  weather 
had  his  hands  full  in  pointing  out  Mr.  Frank 
lin's  residence  and  conveying  passengers 
thither,  now  plied  his  oars  vigorously  in  his 
endeavor  to  seek  a  shelter.  Nature  was 
playing  deep  notes. 

This  boisterous  state  of  the  elements,  how 
ever,  did  not  disturb  the  philosophical  soul 
of  Mr.  Benjamin  Franklin.  Despite  the  rain 
and  the  racket,  he  was  out  on  the  terrace,  his 
coat-collar  up,  his  glasses  carefully  adjusted 
on  his  nose,  his  cocked  hat  crushed  down 
230 


Mr.  Franklin  flies  a  Kite 

over  his  ears,  his  feet  spread  and  firmly 
planted,  holding  with  a  stout  grip  the  string 
of  a  large  kite,  which  was  furnished  with 
a  lightning-conductor,  and  which  whirled  in 
the  wind  like  a  thing  possessed.  Since  Mr. 
Franklin's  arrival  at  Passy  his  thunder-storms 
had  come  chiefly  from  the  British  Embassy, 
and  as  this  was  the  first  one  which  nature 
had  sent  him,  he  desired  to  make  the  most  of 
it.  The  kite  was  of  silk,  on  a  frame  of  cedar, 
from  the  top  of  which  a  sharp  pointed  wire 
rose  a  foot  or  two  above  the  wood.  At  the 
end  of  the  kite-string,  below  Mr.  Franklin's 
hands,  was  a  silk  ribbon,  and  where  the  silk 
joined  the  twine  a  key  was  fastened.  Mr. 
Franklin  seemed  to  be  at  some  pains  to  pre 
vent  the  silk  ribbon  from  getting  wet.  In 
fact,  so  absorbed  was  he  in  his  experiment, 
that  he  failed  to  see  a  carriage  which  dashed 
furiously  up  the  Rue  Basse. 

In  a  few  moments  M.  de  Beaumarchais 
appeared,  running  through  the  Tuscan 
columns  of  the  belvedere  at  the  east  wing  of 
the  chateau. 

"  H'elas  /  Franklin,"  he  cried,  in  some  ex 
citement.  "  I  have  been  seeking  you  every 
where.  Things  are  in  a  bad  way." 

"  Beaumarchais,"  said  Mr.  Franklin,  slowly, 
"please  come  and  hold  this  phial.  I  want 
to  charge  it.  I  shall  get  a  shock  in  a  minute." 

M.  de  Beaumarchais  understood  the  philos- 
231 


Brinton  Eliot 

opher  well  enough  to  know  that  the  present 
experiment  in  electricity  would  have  to  be 
completed  before  any  other  matter  was  taken 
up.  He  took  the  phial  from  Mr.  Franklin's 
hand,  and  at  that  moment  a  sudden  gust  of 
wind  blew  the  philosopher  half  across  the 
terrace.  Nothing  daunted,  Mr.  Franklin 
clung  stoutly  to  the  string,  while  the  kite 
pranced  in  the  heavens.  Beaumarchais  ran 
after  him,  for  Franklin  was  holding  his 
knuckle  near  the  key  from  which  came 
bright  flashes  of  electric  fire.  "  Ouch  !  "  cried 
Mr.  Franklin.  "  That  was  a  sharp  one. 
Where  is  the  phial  ?  "  Beaumarchais  brought 
the  phial  close  to  the  key.  It  was  an  inter 
esting  sight  to  behold  these  two  men  upon 
that  wind-swept  terrace.  When  the  phial 
had  been  charged,  Mr.  Franklin  endeavored 
to  lower  his  kite.  It  proved  to  be  a  little 
more  than  he  could  manage,  for  he  felt  sev 
eral  twinges  of  gout,  and  he  appealed  to  M. 
de  Beaumarchais.  Beaumarchais,  who  had 
never  handled  a  kite,  gave  vigorous  assistance 
but  in  so  awkward  a  fashion  that  the  kite 
lodged  in  the  branches  of  a  lime  tree  and 
the  string  broke.  However,  in  spite  of  this 
inglorious  climax,  the  experiment  had  been 
successful. 

"  Now,"  said  Mr.  Franklin,  "  I  will  get  a 
pole,  and  we  will  dislodge  the  kite." 

"  Not  at  all !  "  exclaimed  Beaumarchais,  in 
232 


Mr.   Franklin  flies  a  Kite 

anxiety.  "  Matters  are  too  pressing.  Nom 
de  Dieu  I  my  friend,  come  in  quickly.  I  must 
talk  with  you.  Everything  is  going  badly." 

"  Bless  me  !  "  said  Mr.  Franklin.  "  Why 
didn't  you  say  as  much  before  ?  What  has 
happened  ?  " 

44 1  did  say  as  much,"  replied  Beaumarchais, 
44  but  you  would  not  listen." 

Mr.  Franklin  glanced  at  the  phial  in  his 
hand,  and  turned  toward  the  chateau,  walking 
somewhat  faster  than  was  his  wont.  As  his 
coat  was  wet  through,  Beaumarchais  urged 
him  to  change  it  before  proceeding  to  business; 
but  Mr.  Franklin  refused,  and  hurried  into 
his  small  salon,  where  he  placed  the  phial  on 
a  table  and  seated  himself,  while  Beaumar 
chais  closed  the  door. 

44  Stormont  knows  everything,"  said  Beau 
marchais. 

44  Bless  my  soul ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Franklin. 
44 1  can't  believe  it." 

44  Neither  could  I,  if  I  had  not  received  this 
letter  from  Vergennes.  Read  that  quickly. 
There  is  no  time  to  be  lost." 

Mr.  Franklin  took  the  letter  and  started  to 
read  it.  Then  he  laid  it  on  his  knee,  took 
off  his  spectacles,  wiped  them  with  his  hand 
kerchief,  adjusted  them  carefully,  and  picked 
up  the  letter  again.  It  was  addressed  to 
M.  Caron  de  Beaumarchais,  and,  oddly 
enough,  was  without  date. 
233 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  VERSAILLES. 

"  MONSIEUR  :  —  His  Majesty's  Government 
has  learned  with  surprise  that  you  are  equip 
ping  the  Flamand,  now  at  Marseilles,  with 
arms  and  ammunition  destined  for  America. 
In  view  of  the  friendly  relations  existing 
between  England  and  the  Government  of 
His  Most  Christian  Majesty,  you  are  to  con 
sider  yourself,  monsieur,  as  receiving  herewith 
His  Majesty's  censure.  Stringent  orders 
will  be  sent  at  once  to  Marseilles  to  prevent 
the  Flamand  from  sailing. 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  be,  monsieur, 
"  Your  Obedient  Servant, 

"  VERGENNES. 
"  By  the  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs, 

THE  MARQUIS  DE  CHAMPIGNELLES,  Secretary" 

"This  is  bad,"  said  Mr.  Franklin.  His 
hands  rested  on  the  arms  of  his  chair,  his 
shoulders  drooped,  and  he  sat  absorbed  in 
thought. 

"  But  that  is  not  all,"  said  Beaumarchais. 
"  This  was  enclosed  in  the  other." 

He  handed  to  Mr.  Franklin  a  small  piece 
of  paper,  on  which  Vergennes  had  written 
with  his  own  hand  several  lines  of  figures. 

"  Of  course  you  can't  read  the  cipher,"  con 
tinued  Beaumarchais,  "  but  I  have  written  it 
out  from  my  cipher-key.  Here  it  is." 

Mr.  Franklin  took  the  second  paper,  which 
ran  as  follows :  — 

234 


Mr.   Franklin  flies  a  Kite 

"  I  will  hold  back  the  orders  for  forty-eight 
hours ;  that  is  all  I  can  do.  Stormont  is 
greatly  excited.  He  has  learned  in  some 
way  that  Steuben  is  to  sail.  Get  M.  von 
Steuben  out  of  Paris  at  once.  He  must  beat 
the  king's  courier  to  Marseilles.  V." 

"  Forty-eight  hours  !  "  groaned  Mr.  Frank 
lin.  "  Forty-eight  hours!  Where  is  Steuben?" 

"  Making  ready.  He  and  Monsieur  Eliot 
must  start  to-night.  I  went  to  Monsieur 
Eliot's  hotel,  but  did  not  find  him.  They 
told  me  he  had  not  been  there  last  night,  so 
I  suppose  he  is  here  with  you.  That  is  a 
better  arrangement,  anyway." 

"  I  have  not  seen  him  for  two  days !  "  ex 
claimed  Mr.  Franklin. 

"  Nom  de  Dieu  I "  cried  Beaumarchais,  now 
thoroughly  alarmed. 

The  wind  shook  the  windows  of  the  salon ; 
the  dark  clouds  drifting  from  the  hills  of  Meu- 
don  rumbled  and  roared  in  thunder-peals, 
crashing  like  the  detonation  of  a  hundred 
guns ;  while  the  hill  of  Passy  was  lighted  with 
swift  flashes  of  fire.  The  silk  kite  in  the 
lime  tree  was  torn  from  the  boughs  and  went 
whirling  down  the  slope  into  the  Seine.  But 
in  the  salon  of  the  Hotel  de  Valentinois  two 
men,  heedless  of  the  thunderbolts  without, 
stood  staring  at  one  another,  struck  by  the 
lightning  from  the  British  Embassy. 


235 


CHAPTER   XIII 

AT    NO.    30    COUR    DU    COMMERCE 

THE  Cour  du  Commerce,  a  narrow  passage 
with  small  houses  on  each  side,  still  exists  in 
Paris,  much  changed,  however,  and  cut  by 
the  Boulevard  Saint-Germain.  In  1777  it 
extended  from  the  tennis-court  at  the  Porte 
de  Buci  to  the  western  end  of  the  Rue  des 
Cordeliers,  and  later,  in  the  red  days  of  the 
Terror,  Marat  and  fellows  of  like  kidney 
lived  there.  Perhaps  it  is  just  as  well  that  the 
Boulevard  Saint-Germain  has  ploughed  it  up. 

No.  30  was  a  small  structure,  with  a  steep 
roof  and  dirty  dormer  windows,  —  a  grim, 
gloomy  place,  with  a  bad  odor  about  it,  for 
the  gamins  of  the  street  declared  that  a 
certain  Franc  de  Pompignan,  who  had  been 
killed  there  in  the  reign  of  Louis  Quinze, 
walked  through  the  rooms  at  night  with  the 
red  dagger  still  in  his  side,  and  had  even 
been  seen,  looking  white  and  ghastly,  at  the 
dirty  windows.  The  wrinkled  woman  who 
sold  milk  was  a  firm  believer  in  this  tale,  and 
never  passed  the  place  without  a  prayer  to 
the  Virgin. 

236 


At  No.  30   Cour  du   Commerce 

At  the  time  in  question,  however,  the 
upper  room  under  the  dormers  was  occupied, 
not  by  the  ghost  of  Pompignan,  but  by 
Brinton  Eliot,  who  sat  in  a  chair  with  his 
hands  and  feet  securely  strapped  and  a  gag 
in  his  mouth,  endeavoring  as  best  he  could 
to  recall  what  had  happened  to  him,  and 
how  he  had  reached  his  present  position. 
He  remembered  passing  the  old  women  who 
sat  under  umbrellas  in  front  of  the  Colon 
nade  of  the  Louvre,  selling  cast-off  clothing. 
Then  something  struck  him  on  the  head ; 
there  were  confused  sounds,  scuffling,  the 
rattle  of  a  hackney-coach,  dizziness,  black 
ness,  and  then  this  —  the  tight  straps,  the 
gag,  the  gloom,  the  musty  smell,  the  dirty 
windows,  and  the  dashing  rain.  What  did 
it  all  mean  ?  Beaumarchais's  warnings  and 
his  great  caution,  ever  since  the  affair  at  the 
Palais  Royal,  came  to  Brinton's  mind,  and  he 
reproached  himself  bitterly  for  his  careless 
ness.  That,  however,  could  not  mend  his 
plight,  and  he  strained  hard  against  the 
straps.  Almost  immediately  a  heavy  tread 
sounded  on  the  stairs,  and  as  there  were  two 
doors  to  the  room,  he  found  himself  wonder 
ing  by  which  his  unknown  visitor  would 
enter.  The  matter  was  soon  settled,  for  a 
shabby,  thick-set  fellow  strode  in,  slamming 
the  door  behind  him.  His  cocked  hat  was 
tilted  over  his  dark  eyes  ;  his  coarse  black  hair 
237 


Brinton  Eliot 

was  unpowdered ;  and  though  his  face 
was  repulsive,  there  was  plenty  of  deter 
mination  in  the  lines  of  his  ugly  mouth 
and  jaw.  This  was  Scheppers,  who,  accord 
ing  to  the  British  Ambassador,  did  what  he 
undertook. 

Scheppers  looked  Brinton  over,  and  ob 
serving  how  the  tight  straps  pulled  his  coat 
awry,  said,  with  a  grin,  "  Cet  habit  fait  la 
grimace,  eh  ?  "  Brinton  bit  the  gag  in  his 
mouth ;  that  was  the  limit  of  his  conversa 
tional  power. 

"  Eh  bien  /  "  said  Scheppers,  seating  him 
self,  for  he  was  in  no  hurry,  apparently. 
"  The  orders  be  that  you  disappear.  Them's 
they !  Some  trouble  you've  give  me,  I'll 
admit,  but  'twas  a  good  idea  of  yours  to  go 
walking  after  sundown.  La  nuit  tous  les 
chats  sont  gris,  eh?  Except  as  a  matter  of 
business  I  haven't  anything  particular  against 
you,  but  others  have.  The  orders  be  that  you 
disappear.  Got  any  special  fancy  as  to  the 
way  of  going  ?  " 

Brinton  clenched  his  hands  under  the 
straps  and  looked  steadily  at  Scheppers. 

"  There's  pistols,  and  poison,  and  the 
river,  and  the  dagger,"  continued  Scheppers. 
"  All  good  ways.  I've  used  'em  all,  but 
somehow  I  prefer  the  dagger ;  not  so  neat  as 
poison,  but  less  bother." 

He  drew  a  dagger  from  his  coat  and  ran 
238 


At  No.   30  Cour  du  Commerce 

his  finger  along  the  blade.  There  must  have 
been  something  in  Brinton's  expression  which 
made  the  villain  feel  the  need  of  self-justifi 
cation. 

"  You  think  I'm  a  bad  one,  eh  ?  Sacr'e  / 
You  should  have  seen  my  father.  He  was  a 
bad  one.  Picked  out  his  own  jobs,  and  came 
one  day  to  the  block  in  the  Greve.  I  was  a 
gamin  then.  Stood  in  the  gutter  and  seen 
his  head  drop  at  the  fifth  stroke.  Zounds! 
He  had  a  tough  neck,  my  father.  I  don't 
pick  my  own  jobs.  I  take  'em  as  they're  give 
me.  There's  more  money  in  the  business 
that  way.  Now  and  again  it  happens  that  to 
clean  up  a  job  somebody  has  to  disappear. 
A  quoi  don  tant  de  peines  ?  That  is  not  my 
affair.  I  clean  up  my  job.  My  trade  is  not 
marchand  de  joujouxr 

Such  was  Scheppers,  a  fellow  of  the  under 
world,  dogged,  determined,  and  superstitious. 
He  rose,  and  Brinton  Eliot,  bound  and 
gagged,  strained  furiously  at  the  straps. 
To  meet  death  in  that  hole,  to  have  his  life 
cut  out  of  him  without  one  chance  to  make 
a  fight  for  it,  was  terrible  indeed.  Scheppers 
stepped  forward  and  stopped  short.  Foot 
steps  sounded  from  the  adjoining  room;  it 
was  evident  that  some  one  was  moving  about 
in  there.  From  behind  the  closed  door  came 
a  groan,  which,  if  it  was  intended  to  denote 
pain,  physical  or  mental,  could  hardly  be 

239 


Brinton   Eliot 

called  a  success,  but  which  was  unpleasant 
notwithstanding.  A  strange  expression 
flashed  over  the  face  of  Scheppers.  Was 
he  fool  enough  to  have  the  Pompignan 
maggot  in  his  brain,  he  who  did  what  he 
undertook  ? 

Scheppers,  like  many  another  who  began 
life  as  a  Paris  gamin  in  the  eighteenth  cen 
tury,  was  superstitious.  Witness  his  attempt 
some  years  back  to  knife  the  late  Louis  in 
true  Damiens  fashion ;  for  in  those  days 
Scheppers  believed  that  he  had  a  mission  to 
regenerate  the  world,  and  meant  to  begin  at 
the  top.  He  went,  therefore,  to  the  Pont 
Neuf,  whither  in  due  time  came  His  Majesty's 
coach.  Up  on  the  wheel,  then,  Scheppers, 
and  straight  to  the  heart  of  the  royal  profli 
gate  !  Du  Barry  will  give  no  more  suppers, 
the  Most  Christian  King  will  quit  life  with 
out  etiquette  or  the  viaticum,  and  you  will 
be  hung,  drawn,  and  quartered  at  the  Greve. 
Up  on  the  wheel !  But  what  comes  here  ? 
Why  this  commotion  in  the  press?  The 
eucharistic  wafer  is  crossing  the  Pont  Neuf ; 
the  viaticum  is  passing  from  some  church  or 
other  to  the  chamber  of  the  dying.  An  old 
priest  in  a  shabby  surplice  bears  the  Host 
beneath  a  faded  canopy,  a  beadle  paces  in 
front,  while  an  acolyte  rings  a  bell.  At  the 
sound  of  it  all  cabs  and  coaches  stop.  The 
silken  sinner  leaves  his  royal  carriage  and 
240 


At   No.    30   Cour  du   Commerce 

drops  on  his  satin  knees  in  the  mud,  gaining 
by  that  a  fleeting  popularity,  while  Scheppers, 
not  six  feet  away,  is  on  his  knees  in  the  mud 
likewise,  and  many  another  man.  When  the 
Host  has  passed,  Scheppers  joins  in  the  gen 
eral  shout,  "Vive  le  Roil  "  The  late  Louis 
was  not  knifed  that  day.  Is  one,  then,  to 
seek  consistency  in  Scheppers  ? 

When,  therefore,  the  door  of  the  adjoining 
room  swung  wide,  revealing  a  figure  on  the 
threshold,  sword  in  hand,  wrapped  in  a  black 
mantle,  Scheppers  dropped  his  dagger.  The 
figure  wore  a  red  and  yellow  mask,  which  in 
a  bright  light  would  have  been  ridiculous  no 
doubt,  but  which  was  somewhat  unpleasant 
in  the  gathering  gloom.  Scheppers  had  seen 
that  mask  before.  "  Pompignan  !  "  he  cried. 
"  Pompignan  !  'Twas  in  there  I  killed  him." 
Dark  deeds  were  coming  home  to  roost,  ap 
parently,  and  Scheppers  stood  with  a  cold 
sweat  on  him.  If  the  thing  spoke,  he  would 
bolt.  "Aye!"  said  a  voice,  "Pompignan!" 
Scheppers  fled,  leaping  down  the  stairs.  The 
mask  was  tossed  to  the  floor,  a  man  sprang 
forward,  and  Brinton,  who  had  never  been  su 
perstitious,  but  who  for  an  instant  had  fancied 
himself  the  victim  of  a  nightmare,  felt  that 
the  straps  about  him  were  being  cut,  and 
heard  a  voice,  which  he  seemed  to  remember 
but  could  not  place,  saying  earnestly,  "  Mon 
sieur  Eliot !  Monsieur  Eliot !  "  A  moment 
R  241 


Brinton  Eliot 

more,  and  the  gag  was  out  of  his  mouth. 
He  jumped  up,  shook  himself  together,  and 
looked  his  rescuer  full  in  the  face.  It  was  the 
former  courtier  of  Louis  XV,  the  sometime 
dancing-master  of  New  Haven,  the  Chevalier 
de  Sainte-Lucie. 

"  Good  heavens  !  "  cried  Brinton,  grasping 
the  chevalier's  hand.  "  Sainte-Lucie !  " 

"  Do  not  call  me  by  that  name,  my  friend. 
It  is  not  safe  for  me.  Call  me  Darsac.  With 
out  doubt  it  is  you  who  are  surprised  to  see 
me.  And  after  four  years !  How  do  I  come 
here?  It  is  on  your  tongue,  I  know.  A  la 
bonne  heure  !  You  shall  learn.  Come,  now, 
quickly !  That  fellow  will  return.  I  know 
them.  Scelerats  !  They  are  scared  for  one 
minute,  two  minutes.  Voila  tout!  They 
return.  Come  now !  " 

He  hurried  Brinton  through  the  room  in 
which  Pompignan  met  his  fate,  into  a  dark 
passage,  down  a  flight  of  broken  stairs,  and  so 
to  the  first  floor,  where  there  was  an  open 
window. 

"  That  is  how  the  ghost  of  Monsieur  Pom 
pignan  enters  his  chateau,"  said  the  chevalier 
with  a  quiet  laugh. 

"  Gad !  "  said  Brinton,  "  a  small  hole. 
Squeeze  through,  chevalier !  " 

"  After  you,  monsieur." 

It  was  the  old  French  politeness  which 
would  outlive  the  monarchy,  and  preserving 
242 


At   No.    30   Cour  du   Commerce 

its  identity  in  the  wreck  of  ranks,  go  lightly 
up  the  steps  of  the  scaffold. 

Brinton  made  short  work  of  it,  Sainte-Lucie 
followed,  and  in  a  few  moments  they  were 
out  in  the  rain  and  the  gloom  of  the  Rue  des 
Cordeliers. 


243 


CHAPTER  XIV 

IN    WHICH    CERTAIN    THINGS    ARE    SAID    AND 
DONE 

THERE  were  many  hackney-coaches  driving 
about  Paris  that  night,  but  one  in  particular, 
rattling  slowly  through  the  Rue  des  Corde 
liers,  was  hailed  by  two  men  who  were 
evidently  in  a  hurry.  The  coachman  leaned 
over  the  box.  "Where?"  said  he.  "To 
Passy.  Ten  francs  if  you  drive  fast."  The 
men  sprang  in,  and  the  coachman  whipped 
up  his  wet  bony  nags.  They,  poor  beasts, 
hoping  the  time  had  come  for  bait  and  board, 
must  now  speed  supperless  to  Passy,  no 
doubt  regretting  the  day  that  men  invented 
boxes  upon  wheels.  The  coachman,  however, 
did  not  share  their  regrets,  for  he  was  think 
ing  of  the  ten  francs,  and  what  with  that,  and 
the  joy  of  it,  and  keeping  the  pace,  and 
avoiding  collisions  with  fashionable  carriages, 
bearing  their  powdered  and  perfumed  occu 
pants  at  a  furious  gallop  to  sup  at  the  Hotel 
d'Aligre  or  at  the  Palais  Royal,  he  had  his 
hands  full.  Inside  the  coach  Brinton  Eliot 
and  the  Chevalier  de  Sainte-Lucie  were  busy 

244 


Certain  Things  are   Said  and  Done 

about  things  of  more  moment  than  the  under 
fed  condition  of  Paris  hack-horses.  The 
latter,  therefore,  were  left  to  their  own  reflec 
tions  and  the  lash. 

"  I  shall  always  be  your  debtor,  chevalier," 
said  Brinton.  "  How  on  earth  did  you  know 
I  was  in  that  hole  ?  " 

"  Well,  to  begin,  I  saw  you  at  the  Palais 
Royal.  What  pleasure  to  see  you  after  four 
years !  And  in  Paris !  I  was  surprised.  I 
was  coming  to  speak  to  you  when  you  jumped 
up  and  addressed  a  man  whose  face  I  could 
not  see.  Ma  foil  You  were  not  in  good 
temper.  Le  coiip  de  poing,  eh  ?  You  would 
have  given  it,  I  fancy.  A  man,  who  was  a 
stranger  to  me,  seized  you  and  dragged  you 
away  in  the  crowd." 

"  I  had  some  words  with  the  British 
Ambassador,"  said  Brinton,  "  and  this  affair 
to-day  was  the  result  of  it." 

"  Oh,  without  doubt.  I  learned  soon 
enough  it  was  the  British  Ambassador  to 
whom  you  spoke.  I  had  only  to  ask  a  waiter, 
*  Who  is  that  one  there? '  Much  as  I  wished 
to  see  you,  however,  I  was  unable  to  find  any 
trace  of  you  until  one  day  by  the  merest 
chance  I  saw  you  on  the  steps  of  the  hotel  in 
the  Place  du  Palais  Royal.  The  man  who 
dragged  you  away  from  the  British  Ambassa 
dor  was  with  you,  and  I  dared  not  make  my 
self  known." 

245 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  Why  not,  pray  ?  That  was  M.  de  Beau- 
marchais." 

"  Beaumarchais  ?  Is  it  possible  ?  You  do 
not  understand,  my  friend.  You  would  have 
cried, '  Sainte-Lucie  ! '  That  name  must  not 
be  known  in  Paris.  I  am  Monsieur  Darsac." 

"  But  I  don't  understand  —  " 

"  All  in  good  time.  For  six  months  I  have 
lodged  in  the  Cour  du  Commerce." 

"You?" 

"  Yes,  I,  the  Comte  de  Sainte-Lucie. 
Louis  Quinze  dies,  Monsieur  Eliot,  but  his 
lettre  de  cachet  lives.  His  and  Pompadour's! 
The  Comte  de  Sainte-Lucie,  though  he  has 
been  some  years  in  America,  is  not  forgotten 
in  France,  and  if  the  Lieutenant-General  of 
Police  could  lay  hands  on  him,  he  would 
lodge  in  the  Bastille.  And  why  ?  Parbleu  ! 
because  he  would  not  bow  the  neck  to  Pom 
padour.  And  she  has  rotted  away  by  this 
time !  Ah,  the  lettre  de  cachet  is  magnificent 
—  like  the  monarchy." 

"  But  why  did  you  leave  America,  cheva 
lier  ? " 

"  A  family  affair,  monsieur.  To  see  my 
mother,  the  Marquise  de  Varicourt.  She 
was  dying,  very  old.  We  are  of  the  noblesse 
de  province,  not  the  noblesse  de  cour.  That  is 
to  say,  we  have  the  blood  but  not  the  money. 
She  had  not  much,  the  marquise,  but  she 
believed  in  me.  I  was  with  her  when  she 
246 


Certain  Things  are  Said  and  Done 

died.  That  was  something,  eh  ?  Tout  va 
bien!" 

Brinton  thought  of  his  own  mother,  who 
had  died  when  he  was  quite  young,  and  being 
unable  to  make  a  reply  which  he  considered 
adequate,  said  nothing. 

"  But  to  return  to  the  Cour  du  Commerce," 
continued  the  chevalier,  after  a  moment.  "  I 
lodged  at  No.  32.  I  was  not  long  in  hearing 
of  the  ghost  of  M.  Pompignan,  for  the  woman 
who  sold  milk  feared  it,  but  wished  to  talk  of 
it  none  the  less.  Mon  Dieu  !  when  I  heard 
her  I  never  fancied  I  should  play  Pompignan. 
That  No.  30  is  a  bad  hole.  More  than  one 
man  has  ended  there." 

"  It  is  certainly  a  hole,"  said  Brinton.  "  I 
should  have  ended  there  if  you  —  " 

"  Oh,  without  doubt." 

"  The   scoundrel   gave   me   no  chance  to 

fight- 

"  Fellows  of  his  type  never  do.  I  know 
them.  They  hurry  along  to  hell,  but  they 
dread  the  devil." 

"  How  did  you  know  he  killed  Pom 
pignan  ?  " 

"  Ma  foil  He  told  me  so  himself." 

"  Gad  !  so  he  did.  But  how  did  you  know 
I  was  there  ?  " 

"  By  good  luck  I  overheard  a  conversation. 
The  man  who  lives  in  No.  32  is  named  Bona- 
venture,  an  honest  fellow,  game-keeper  once, 
247 


Brinton  Eliot 

in  better  days,  to  my  father,  the  Marquis  de 
Varicourt,  at  Chateauneuf.  By  my  faith !  the 
marquis  lived  like  a  lord  and  left  debts  for  a 
legacy.  Bonaventure  would  not  betray  me, 
however.  I  was  safe  with  him.  '  Something 
is  wrong  next  door,'  said  his  wife.  *  What  ? ' 
said  Bonaventure.  '  A  man  was  carried  in. 
There  were  noises,  lights.  Pompignan  is 
walking.  Dieu  men  preserve  ! '  *  Bah  !  Bad 
dreams,'  said  Bonaventure.  My  curiosity 
was  aroused,  and  I  resolved  to  investigate.  I 
entered  the  house  through  the  back  window, 
went  up  the  stairs,  and  heard  a  voice  in  the 
front  room.  It  talked  of  pistols,  poison,  and 
the  dagger.  '  A  suicide,  no  doubt,'  said  I, 
and  seeing  on  the  floor  the  false  face  which 
some  reveller  may  have  worn  at  a  bal  masque 
at  the  opera  before  he  was  brought  drunk  to 
that  trap  to  meet  his  doom,  I  picked  it  up 
with  the  point  of  my  sword.  The  whim 
seized  me.  '  Pompignan  is  walking  now, '  I 
said ;  and  after  groaning  in  a  fashion  which  I 
thought  fitted  the  part,  I  threw  open  the  door. 
To  my  amazement  you  were  before  me,  bound 
and  gagged,  while  he  whose  voice  I  had 
heard  stood,  dagger  in  hand.  I  had  some 
difficulty  in  playing  the  part." 

"  I  should  think  so !  Egad !  you're  an 
actor,  chevalier." 

Sainte-Lucie  laughed  and  drew  out  his 
snuff-box.  Brinton  was  extremely  sorry  that, 

248 


Certain  Things  are  Said  and   Done 

owing  to  the  gloom,  he  was  deprived  of  the 
pleasure  of  watching  the  chevalier  make  use 
of  it.  To  see  Sainte-Lucie  take  snuff  had 
been  among  the  wonders  of  New  Haven. 

"  Why  don't  you  go  back  to  America  ?  " 
said  Brinton. 

"  I  wish  to  do  so." 

"  Good  !  You  can  go  on  my  ship.  She's 
at  Marseilles.  The  dear  old  Flamand !  I 
thought  for  a  few  minutes  I  should  never  see 
her  again.  Heavens!  It  was  all  so  sudden 
that  I  didn't  realize  it.  The  more  I  think  of 
dying  in  that  hole,  the  worse  it  gets.  Never 
to  see  America  again !  Never  to  see  — " 
Brinton  choked  and  looked  out  of  the  win 
dow,  bored,  perhaps,  that  his  emotion  had 
the  better  of  him.  Then  turning  suddenly, 
he  seized  the  chevalier's  hand,  and  said  ear 
nestly,  "  If  ever  you  get  in  a  scrape,  Sainte- 
Lucie,  you  can  count  on  me.  Dam'  me,  if 
you  can't ! " 

The  coachman  had  earned  his  ten  francs, 
for  he  was  driving,  between  rows  of  lime  trees, 
up  the  Rue  Basse,  toward  that  large  white 
mansion  on  the  top  of  the  slope  overlooking 
the  Seine  —  a  mansion  where  in  those  days 
much  was  done  for  America,  and  of  which, 
unfortunately,  few  traces  remain,  for  the 
growth  of  the  great  capital  has  swept  it  away. 
The  house  with  its  two  wings,  the  belvedere 
adorned  with  balustrades  and  Tuscan  col- 
249 


Brinton  Eliot 

umns,  the  sculpture  gallery,  the  orangery  and 
greenhouses,  the  Italian  parterre,  all  have  dis 
appeared.  But  that  men  may  know  in  what 
part  of  Paris  the  great  American  once  lived 
and  labored,  there  runs  to-day,  under  the 
shadow  of  the  Eiffel  Tower,  from  Passy  to 
the  Place  du  Trocadero,  the  Rue  Franklin. 

The  hackney-coach  stopped  in  the  court 
yard,  where  there  were  two  or  three  other 
carriages,  and  Brinton  and  Sainte-Lucie 
jumped  out.  Brinton  paid  the  fare,  and 
started  toward  the  mansion,  but  as  he  and 
the  chevalier  went  up  the  wet  steps,  M.  de 
Beaumarchais  came  running  out  into  the 
lamplight. 

"  Nom  de  Dieu  ! "  cried  Beaumarchais. 
"  I  was  going  to  Paris  to  seek  some  trace  of 
you.  And  this  gentleman  ?  " 

"  Is  Monsieur  Darsac,"  replied  Brinton, 
presenting  the  chevalier,  "a  friend  whom  I 
knew  in  New  Haven.  He  has  helped  me 
out  of  a  bad  scrape,  and  he  is  going  to  Amer 
ica.  You  can  rely  on  him." 

Beaumarchais  smiled  and  saluted  the  cheva 
lier. 

"You  must  start  to-night,"  he  continued, 
addressing  Brinton.  "  Where  have  you 
been  ?  " 

Brinton  gave  him  an  account  of  the  affair 
in  the  Cour  du  Commerce,  while  Beaumar 
chais  fidgeted,  exclaimed  from  time  to  time, 
250 


Certain  Things  are   Said  and  Done 

took  snuff  vigorously,  and  said  with  empha 
sis,  "  That  Stormont !  Ce  diable  cThomme  /  " 

"  Mr.  Franklin  must  hear  this  at  once," 
said  he,  when  Brinton  had  finished.  "  Mon 
sieur  Darsac,  if  you  are  going  to  America 
with  Monsieur  Eliot,  you  will  have  to  start 
for  Marseilles  to-night.  Are  you  ready  ?  " 

"  Oh,  quite  so,"  replied  the  chevalier,  laugh 
ing.  "  My  equipage,  M.  de  Beaumarchais, 
consists  of  my  cloak  and  my  sword." 

"Good.  Mon  Dieu  !  what  are  we  about? 
Let  us  go  inside.  In  view  of  the  great  ser 
vice  you  have  rendered  Monsieur  Eliot,  I 
will  keep  no  secrets  from  you,  monsieur. 
Stormont  has  learned  in  some  way  —  may 
the  devil  take  me,  if  I  know  how  —  that  the 
Flamand  is  going  to  America  with  arms  and 
ammunition  and  the  Baron  Steuben.  He 
has  made  a  scene  at  the  French  Minister's 
office,  with  of  course  the  usual  result.  But 
Vergennes  has  written  me  that  though  he 
has  issued  orders  to  prevent  the  Flamand 
from  sailing,  he  will  hold  them  back  forty- 
eight  hours.  Baron  Steuben  is  here  and 
ready.  His  travelling-carriage  is  in  the 
courtyard.  You  must  all  leave  to-night." 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  salon, 
but  Beaumarchais  hurried  them  into  Mr. 
Franklin's  private  room.  Three  candles  in 
brass  candlesticks  were  burning  on  the  table ; 
Mr.  Franklin  and  the  Baron  Steuben  were 
25 r 


Brinton  Eliot 

busy  over  some  papers;  while  M.  Duponceau, 
the  baron's  secretary,  was  talking  to  Mr. 
Deane. 

"  H'elas  !  Franklin,"  cried  Beaumarchais, 
"  here  is  Monsieur  Eliot,  safe  enough  at  last, 
but  after  an  unpleasant  experience.  Un 
mauvais  quart  a  heure,  by  my  faith  !  " 

"Eliot!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Franklin,  "  I  am 
truly  delighted.  You  have  given  me  not  a 
little  anxiety." 

"  I  regret  it  very  much,"  said  Brinton. 
"  May  I  present  to  you  Monsieur  Darsac  ? " 

Then  it  was  necessary  for  Brinton  to  relate 
again  the  affair  of  the  Cour  du  Commerce. 
There  were  several  exclamations  of  surprise 
from  Mr.  Deane,  while  Steuben  punctuated 
the  narrative  more  than  once  with  a  hearty, 
"  Potzausend !  "  but  Mr.  Franklin,  though  he 
listened  very  attentively,  said  little.  At  the 
end,  he  rose  and  shook  hands  cordially  with 
the  chevalier.  His  opinion  of  Lord  Stormont 
he  kept  to  himself  for  some  reason. 

"  Eliot,"  said  he,  "  have  you  had  supper  ?  " 

"  Egad  !  "  said  Brinton,  "  not  a  mouthful ! 
I'd  quite  forgotten  it." 

"  I  will  have  something  gotten  for  you 
directly." 

He  was  as  good  as  his  word,  and  while 

Brinton   and    the  chevalier  made  a  hurried 

meal,  Mr.  Franklin  and  M.  de  Beaumarchais 

concluded  their  business  with  the  baron.     By 

252 


Certain  Things  are  Said  and  Done 

midnight  the  final  arrangements  had  been 
made,  and  some  ten  minutes  later  they  all 
went  out  to  the  travelling-carriage  in  the 
courtyard.  The  storm  had  passed,  and  the 
wet  stones  glistened  in  the  moonlight. 

"  I  would  give  a  shilling  to  know  what 
Stormont  is  doing  now,"  remarked  Deane. 

"  He  is  abed,  no  doubt,"  replied  Mr.  Frank 
lin.  "  At  least  I  hope  so,  for  '  the  sleeping  fox 
catches  no  poultry.'  M.  le  Baron,  I  trust 
you  will  not  pass  through  Paris." 

"  Make  the  mind  easy  now  on  that,  my 
friend,"  answered  Steuben. 

"  Good-by,  M.  de  Beaumarchais,"  said  Brin- 
ton.  "  I  thank  you  sincerely  for  your  kindness. 
I  shall  never  forget  you.  You're  amazing 
good  to  sacrifice  your  time  and  money  for  us. 
I  am  sure  people  at  home  will  appreciate  it." 

"  Ah,  my  friend,  I  love  your  country  be 
cause  it  is  struggling  for  freedom,  and  that  is 
such  a  good  thing.  In  France,  alas  !  I  fear 
the  monarchy  will  last  forever." 

"  Eliot,"  said  Mr.  Franklin,  "  have  you  got 
your  letters  of  marque  ?  " 

"  Yes,  thank  you,  everything.  Good-by,  Mr. 
Franklin.  God  bless  you  !  I  hope  you'll  soon 
get  good  news  from  home." 

"Good-by,  my  boy.     I    hope  so.     In    the 

meanwhile,   I    shall    go    on    struggling   with 

Stormont  —  and    the  gout.     You  are  going 

to  America;  you  are  happier  than  I.     I  am 

253 


Brinton  Eliot 

rather  old  for  this  business,  I  confess,  for  I 
am  something  like  a  book  with  contents 
fairly  sound,  but  cover  badly  worn.  How 
ever,  what  little  strength  I  have  left  belongs 
to  my  country,  and  when  my  end  comes,  I 
would  rather  have  it  said  of  me  that  I  lived 
usefully  than  that  I  died  rich." 

The  Baron  Steuben,  M.  Duponceau,  and 
the  Chevalier  de  Sainte-Lucie  were  already 
seated  in  the  carnage.  Brinton  sprang  in, 
but  as  the  carriage  started,  he  put  his  head 
out  of  the  window  to  say  good-by  again, 
catching  a  final  glimpse  of  the  trim  gray 
coat  of  Mr.  Deane,  the  satin,  the  lace,  and 
the  white  wig  of  M.  de  Beaumarchais,  the 
stooping  shoulders,  plain  brown  coat,  and 
gray  hair  of  the  great  American,  and  above 
them  the  dim  yellow  lamps  at  the  entrance 
of  the  Hotel  de  Valentinois.  Ere  they  van 
ished,  they  waved  him  a  farewell,  and  their 
voices  wished  him  bon  voyage. 


254 


CHAPTER  XV 

A    SOLDIER    SAILS    OVER    THE    SEA 

IN  harbor  of  Marseilles  brigs,  sloops,  and 
schooners  were  afloat,  and  yellow  merchant 
men,  full  rigged  from  cutwater  to  main  truck, 
sailed  slowly  by  the  Forts  St.  Nicolas  and  St. 
Jean.  Through  a  forest  of  fore-  and  main- 
topgallants  men  called  to  one  another  from 
mainyard  or  foreyard,  while  a  fresh  breeze 
shook  the  studding-sails. 

Provided  it  does  not  come  too  late  in  life, 
the  realization  of  a  long-cherished  wish  is  most 
pleasant  to  all  men ;  and,  therefore,  it  was  one 
of  the  grand  moments  in  Ichabod  Elderkin's 
existence  —  his  career  was  not  without  others 
of  a  similar  nature  —  when  he  stood  by  the 
taff rail  of  the  transformed  Flamand,  looking 
at  the  black  guns  which  peered  through  the 
ports,  and  found  himself,  and  felt  himself, 
the  captain  of  a  man-o'-war.  His  lungs  ex 
panded,  his  raw-boned  frame  was  filled  with 
new  vigor,  for  he  sprang  from  fighting  stock 
and  had  come  to  his  own  at  last.  "  Gosh !  " 
said  he.  "  Hit's  gret !  "  Trouble,  however, 
came  with  Heathcote  out  of  the  main  hatch. 
255 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  Them  dern  dogs  is  grumblin',"  said 
Heathcote,  with  an  anxious  air.  "  They  wun't 
git  th'  powder  aboard.  They're  thet  damned 
pert !  An'  ter  my  min'  someun  hes  been 
a-tamperin'  of  'em." 

"Who  'n  hell  c'd?"  replied  Elderkin. 
"  They'll  git  thet  aboard.  Certingly  they 
will.  Ef  they  don't,  blow  me  !  "  And  with 
that,  he  vanished  down  the  main  hatch. 

During  the  transfer  of  the  Flamand's  cargo 
to  the  warehouse  of  Peyron  Freres,  Elderkin 
had  experienced  no  difficulty  with  his  men, 
nor  had  he  in  the  first  days  of  the  refitting  of 
the  ship,  or  in  the  first  loading  of  the  "  mer 
chandise  "  which  Roderique  Hortalez  & 
Company  sent  promptly.  But  recently  there 
had  been  a  marked  change  in  the  effort  of 
more  than  one  of  them.  Some  had  been  dead 
drunk  of  a  morning,  though  where  they  got 
the  money  Elderkin  could  not  imagine,  while 
others,  unless  sharply  followed  up,  did  noth 
ing.  At  times  it  had  seemed  to  him  that  the 
Flamand  would  never  be  ready,  and  five  let 
ters  from  Paris  urging  the  greatest  despatch 
were  not  calculated  to  improve  his  state  of 
mind.  But  each  day  from  dawn  till  dark  he 
had  worked  with  all  the  vigor  that  was  in  him, 
taxing  his  strength  and  his  stock  of  profanity, 
and  had  finally  accomplished  much,  for,  save 
seventeen  hundred  wreight  of  powder  still  on 
the  docks,  the  ship  was  ready  to  sail. 
256 


A  Soldier  sails  over  the  Sea 

Elderkin,  therefore,  disappeared  down  the 
main  hatch,  and  a  man  in  the  mizzen  shrouds 
watched  him  go.  This  fellow  might  have 
thrown  some  light  on  the  situation  had  he 
been  so  inclined,  and  it  was  unfortunate,  per 
haps,  that  Elderkin  had  hired  him.  He  saw 
Heathcote  follow  the  captain,  and  then,  pull 
ing  out  a  watch,  he  noted  the  hour.  It  was 
curious  that  he  should  possess  a  watch.  In 
a  few  moments  Elderkin's  voice  was  heard. 

"  I've  tuck  er  notion  this  'ere's  muttiny. 
I  give  ye  two  minutes.  Th'  fust  man  thet 
stands  arter  thet,  barkin'  an'  hollerin'  back, 
'11  git  an  ounce  o'  lead  in  'is  liver.  Git  out 
an'  hustle  them  kegs  aboard !  " 

The  man  in  the  mizzen  shrouds  wondered 
if  they  would  obey,  and  when  he  saw  them 
coming  up  the  hatch,  a  score  of  powder-mon 
keys,  sullen  but  cowed,  he  could  not  repress 
an  oath.  They  went  to  join  those  who  were 
working  on  the  dock,  in  spite  of  the  bribes 
which  had  been  offered,  for  with  all  his  efforts 
the  man  in  the  mizzen  shrouds  had  gained 
but  a  third  of  the  crew.  It  was  evident  to 
Grantugen  that  he  had  spent  Lord  Stormont's 
money  to  no  purpose,  since  fellows  who  prom 
ised  wonders  squandered  the  money  in 
drink  and  wilted  at  the  crucial  moment. 
Grantugen,  consequently,  was  anything  but 
cheerful,  cursing  them  all  and  Elderkin  in 
particular. 

s  257 


Brinton  Eliot 

"Les  chiens  !  "  said  he,  angrily.  "  Tout  chien 
qui  abate  ne  mord  pas.  There  is  nothing  to 
be  done,  then,  for  I  have  not  a  franc  left 
nor  have  they.  Scelerats  !  I  must  see  Penan- 
nech.  Oh,  he  lives  like  a  lord,  does  Penannech, 
at  the  Cafe  d'Acajon.  Like  a  lord  !  And  all 
because  the  Englishman  permits  that  he 
should  play  the  comte.  La  la  !  He  is  fine. 
He  must  not  soil  his  lace.  Canaille  /  To 
Grantugen  the  dirty  work,  eh  ?  He  has  no 
lace  to  soil.  Ce  nest  pas  la  que  je  vise" 

Leaving  the  mizzen  shrouds  to  mend  them 
selves,  Grantugen  slipped  over  the  side,  down 
the  ropes  to  the  dock,  and  vanished  in  the 
babbling,  brightly-clad  throng  of  Algerians, 
Greeks,  Corsicans,  and  Dutchmen  who 
rubbed  elbows  at  the  vieux  port  of  Marseilles. 

During  the  day  the  work  in  the  Flamand 
went  on,  and  it  was  fortunate  the  day  was 
not  lost,  for  when  the  white  rocks  had  grown 
gray,  and  the  vines  and  olive  trees  had  turned 
black  in  the  gathering  gloom,  and  the  quaint 
stone  houses  shot  faint  gleams  of  candle-light 
into  the  narrow,  crooked  streets,  a  travelling- 
carriage  and  four  dashed  furiously  down  the 
hill  by  the  Old  Cemetery,  the  postilions  spur 
ring  the  horses,  and  double  drink-money  spur 
ring  the  postilions.  It  was  not  the  same 
carriage  which  had  left  the  courtyard  of  the 
Hotel  de  Valentinois  on  a  certain  night.  That 
vehicle  had  broken  down  long  ago,  had  never 
258 


A  Soldier  sails  over  the  Sea 

reached  Lyons  in  fact,  for  His  Majesty's  roads 
were  none  of  the  best. 

When  this  carriage,  with  its  spent  steeds 
and  splashed  postilions,  pulled  up  at  the  Cafe 
d'Acajon,  the  Comte  de  Provost-Launay,  in 
velvet  and  lace,  was  going  in  to  supper.  The 
comte,  for  some  reason,  took  a  keen  interest 
in  all  arrivals,  and,  perceiving  the  bustle  inci 
dent  to  this  one,  he  stopped  and  looked 
toward  the  door.  Four  men  passed  him,  evi 
dently  in  haste  to  get  their  suppers,  and  on 
seeing  them,  Provost-Launay  quite  forgot  his 
own,  disappearing  at  once  up  the  staircase. 
When  he  came  down,  some  twenty  minutes 
later,  velvet  and  lace  had  vanished,  and  he  wore 
a  shabby  cocked  hat  and  a  coarse  surtout 
which  quite  concealed  his  sword.  He  went 
out  of  the  cafe,  but  before  he  had  passed  from 
the  light  of  the  entrance  lamps  into  the  dark 
ness,  a  thick-set  fellow  reined  up  a  badly- 
blown  horse  and  lurched  heavily  out  of  the 
saddle.  It  was  Scheppers. 

"  Hein ! "  said  Provost-Launay,  with  a 
slight  sneer.  "  You  have  followed  them 
from  Paris,  but  you  have  not  prevented 
them.  They  have  arrived." 

"  None  of  your  airs  with  me,"  growled 
Scheppers.  "  They  had  too  long  a  lead. 
You  couldn't  'a'  done  better  yourself." 

"  I  was  surprised  to  see  the  American," 
continued  Provost-Launay,  in  the  same  tone, 
259 


Brinton  Eliot 

"for  I  understood  that  Stormont  had  put  him 
in  your  hands." 

"  So  he  has,"  snapped  Scheppers,  "  and 
I'm  here  to  clean  up  my  job." 

"  But  you  will  do  it  under  my  orders.  Do 
you  understand  ?  Both  you  and  Grantu- 
gen  have  failed.  It  remains  for  me  to  con 
clude  the  business.  Leave  that  nag  where 
he  stands,  and  come  to  the  Rue  de  la 
Loge." 

At  the  Cafe  d'Acajon  the  Baron  Steuben, 
the  Comte  de  Sainte-Lucie,  and  M.  Dupon- 
ceau  were  making  their  toilets  for  supper, 
Brinton,  meanwhile,  writing  a  few  lines  to 
Elderkin  and  to  M.  Achille  Peyron,  and 
sending  them  out  by  the  garfons  de  service. 
When  he  in  his  turn  had  removed  the  traces 
of  his  hurried  journey,  they  went  in  to 
supper. 

"  Our  last  in  France,  I  hope,"  said  Brin 
ton,  smiling.  "  Let  us  make  it  a  good  one. 
M.  le  Baron,  I  trust  your  appetite  has  not 
failed  you." 

"  No,  it  has  not  failed  me.  When  it  does, 
I  am  dead.  But  it  is  not  so  good  as  it  was 
before  the  Seven  Years'  War.  Zounds ! 
how  I  could  eat  at  the  siege  of  Prague  — 
when  I  had  something." 

"  As  for  me,"  said  Sainte-Lucie,  laughing, 
"  voila  /     I  am  here  with  M.  le  Baron's  appe 
tite  of  the  siege  of  Prague." 
260 


A  Soldier  sails  over  the  Sea 

"  And  I,"  said  Duponceau,  "  have  a  before 
the  Seven  Years'  War  appetite  also." 

"  Then,  gentlemen,"  said  Brinton,  "  let  us 
attack  the  menu  of  the  Cafe  d'Acajon  with 
the  same  vigor  with  which  M.  le  Baron 
charged  at  Rossbach." 

As  a  result  of  the  successful  journey  to 
Marseilles  every  one  was  in  the  best  of  spirits, 
and  the  meal  passed  merrily.  Before  they 
finished,  Elderkin  arrived,  and  on  leaving  the 
dining  room  Brinton  found  him.  "  Cap," 
cried  Brinton,  "  I'm  delighted !  Is  she 
ready  ? " 

"  Mr.  El'ot,"  exclaimed  Elderkin,  grasping 
his  hand,  "  I'm  dern  glad  t'  see  ye.  Ye  kin 
bet  she  is.  Ye'd  orter  see  her.  She's  gret 
now  !  With  them  guns  a-stickin'  outen  her, 
me  on  deck,  Heathcote  terhind  me,  an'  them 
Dutch  an'  Irish  workin'  like  niggers  in  th' 
hole,  I'm  the  hull  U.  S.  of  Ameriky,  dern  me 
ef  I  ain't !  " 

"  Gad  !  I  don't  doubt  it,"  replied  Brinton, 
and  turning  to  Steuben,  he  said  in  French, 
"  M.  le  Baron,  I  want  to  present  to  you  Captain 
Elderkin  of  the  Flamand,  as  good  a  man  as 
sails  the  sea.  I'm  sorry  that  he  doesn't  speak 
French  or  German." 

"  He  is  the  captain  of  the  ship  on  which  we 

fo  ?      Yes  ?     I  am  charmed.      I  regret  that 
do  not  speak  the  English,  but  I  will  try 
that  I  shall  talk  with  him."     And  extending 
261 


Brinton  Eliot 

his  hand,  Steuben  said  cordially,  "  How  you 
vhas  ? " 

"  Gret !  "  said  Elderkin,  grasping  the  prof 
fered  hand.  "  Mr.  El'ot  writ  thet  ye  wuz 
goin'  ter  Ameriky.  Thet's  gret !  Shud 
guess  atween  ye  an'  me  th'  words  wun't 
slip  out  s'  easy,  but  we'll  git  on  powerful  well, 
I  reckon." 

Elderkin  was  then  introduced  to  the  Comte 
de  Sainte-Lucie,  who  talked  with  him  in  Eng 
lish  readily  enough,  and  afterward  to  M.  Du- 
ponceau,  whose  ability  to  speak  that  language 
was  almost  as  limited  as  the  baron's. 

"  Mr.  El'ot,"  said  Elderkin,  "  what  time  o' 
th'  mornin'  — " 

"  No,  Cap,"  replied  Brinton.  "We're  going 
aboard  at  once.  We've  no  time  to  lose,  and 
that's  much  better  every  way." 

"  Shud  guess  I'd  better  git  a  lanthorn,  ef 
th'  burr'n  's  goin'  daown  ter  th'  ship.  It's 
blacker  'n  hell." 

"  Oh,  I  dare  say  we  shall  get  on  very  well 
though  it  is  dark,"  said  Brinton.  "  But  suit 
yourself  about  the  matter."  And  he  went 
across  the  hall  to  settle  the  bill  for  supper. 

When  they  left  the  cafe,  shortly  before 
eleven  o'clock,  Elderkin,  who  had  provided 
himself  with  a  lantern,  led  the  way,  for  in  those 
days  there  were  no  lights  at  night  in  the  narrow 
streets  of  Marseilles.  Brinton  walked  with 
Steuben,  a  few  paces  behind  Elderkin,  while 
262 


A  Soldier  sails  over  the  Sea 

Sainte-Lucie  followed  with  Duponceau.  The 
Rue  Coutellerie,  dark  and  deserted,  stretched 
before  them  to  the  Rue  de  la  Loge,  a  steep 
street  leading  to  the  harbor.  The  moving 
lantern  light  shifted  uneasily  over  the  stones, 
the  tightly-closed  shutters  kept  the  secrets  of 
the  walls,  and  Marseilles  seemed  as  silent  as 
a  city  of  the  dead. 

Turning  into  the  Rue  de  la  Loge  they 
started  down  the  hill,  but  out  of  the  black 
ness  which  led  to  the  water  three  dark  forms, 
sweeping  like  bats,  rushed  upon  them.  The 
first  was  Scheppers,  knife  in  hand,  and  en 
countering  the  raw-boned  Elderkin,  whom  he 
had  never  seen,  he  paused,  puzzled  for  an 
instant,  thinking  possibly  that  he  had  mis 
taken  his  game.  In  that  instant  Brinton  gave 
him  a  blow  which  sent  him  sprawling  on  the 
cobbles.  "Hundsfott  /  "  exclaimed  Steuben, 
drawing  his  sword,  for  Provost-Launay  was 
upon  him.  Sainte-Lucie,  springing  past 
Duponceau,  crossed  swords  with  Provost- 
Launay,  and  the  blades  of  the  comte  genuine 
and  the  comte  bastard  rang  out  on  the  night 
air.  The  sharp  report  of  Elderkin's  pistol 
followed,  and  Scheppers,  who  had  risen,  fell 
backward  on  the  stones.  Grantugen  fled. 
It  was  a  pity  that  there  was  not  more  light 
in  which  to  see  Sainte-Lucie,  for  they  were 
taught  to  fight,  those  noblemen  of  France. 
With  a  swift  thrust  in  tierce  his  blade  red- 
263 


Brinton  Eliot 

dened  between  the  ribs  of  Provost-Launay, 
and  the  false  comte,  reeling,  lay  his  length 
at  last,  choked  with  his  life-blood. 

* Potzausendl"  cried  Steuben,  wrathfully. 
"  It  is  then  Stormont  that  we  thank  for  this, 
eh  ?  Verdammt  hundsfott !  M.  le  Comte, 
it  was  well  done.  Oh  !  bravely  done." 

"  Blow  me !  "  exclaimed  Elderkin.  "  I 
reckon  I  carry  a  barker  's  good  's  th'  next. 
Ef  t'  other  dern  dog  didn't  git  sich  a  scoot  on 
'im,  c'd  'a'  plunked  'im,  mebbe.  Guess  he 
wun't  give  no  more  trouble,"  he  added,  hold 
ing  the  lantern  down  beside  the  ugly  face  of 
Scheppers. 

"Gad!"  said  Brinton.  "That  fellow  is 
the  same  one  who  trapped  me  in  Paris. 
Don't  you  recognize  him,  Sainte-Lucie? 
Cap,  keep  the  lantern  there  a  moment." 

Sainte-Lucie  in  his  turn  looked  at  Schep 
pers. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  I  recognize  him." 

"  And  Monsieur  Eliot,  without  the  sword," 
remarked  Steuben,  "  gave  him  a  grand  coup 
de  poing.  Wohl  auf!  It  was  well  done." 

"  Of  course  they're  bad  stuff,  and  all  that," 
said  Brinton,  "  but  it  hardly  seems  the  decent 
thing  to  leave  them  like  this.  I  think  I'll 
ask  Peyron  to  have  them  buried.  I'm  will 
ing  to  pay  for  it." 

"Nom  de  Dieu  !  "  exclaimed  Sainte-Lucie, 
"  if  you  begin  that,  my  friend,  you  will  be  in- 
264 


A  Soldier  sails  over  the  Sea 

volved  with  the  authorities,  and  while  we  shall 
acquit  ourselves  well,  we  may  be  delayed 
Heaven  knows  how  long.  Meanwhile,  the 
orders  from  Paris  will  arrive,  and  then  all  is 
over.  No !  They  have  brought  their  fate 
upon  them.  Let  them  lie." 

"  En  avant  I  "  said  the  baron,  bruskly. 

That  settled  the  matter,  and  they  went 
down  the  hill  to  the  harbor,  where  a  light  at 
the  stern  of  the  Flamand  glimmered  in  the 
gloom. 

In  the  morning,  when  the  spanker-sheets 
were  set,  the  foretopgallants  filling,  and 
men  running  up  rope  ladders  to  the  stud- 
dingsail  halyards,  M.  Achille  Peyron  came 
on  board. 

"  Monsieur  Eliot,"  said  he,  "  I  am  glad  to 
see  you  again.  I  regret  being  somewhat 
behind  my  appointed  time.  I  was  delayed 
by  the  crowd  in  the  Rue  de  la  Loge.  A 
couple  of  knaves  killed  in  a  brawl.  Unfor 
tunately,  with  our  mixed  population,  such 
affairs  are  too  frequent  here." 

"  Indeed  ?  "  said  Brinton.  "  Amazing  un 
pleasant.  What  do  you  think  of  the  Fla 
mand  now  ?  " 

"  Magnificent !     A  ship  of  war,  in  fact." 

"  She's  going  out  as  a  privateer.  Come 
into  the  cabin,  and  we'll  finish  our  business." 

They  did  so.     Brinton  opened  his  books, 
and  M.  Peyron  arranged  his  papers. 
265 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  I  suppose  this  is  the  complete  list  of  what 
you  have  received,"  said  Brinton. 

"Yes." 

"  Forty  bales  of  tanjeebs,  twenty-six  of 
jollopours,  eighteen  of  chowtahs  —  " 

Brinton  went  on  slowly  through  the  list, 
and  checked  it  by  his  books.  When  every 
thing  was  found  correct,  M.  Peyron  paid  him 
sixty  thousand  francs,  and  the  transaction 
was  settled. 

Peyron  was  then  shown  over  the  vessel 
which  was  ready  to  sail,  meeting  a  certain 
Monsieur  Darsac  and  a  certain  Monsieur 
Frank  (for  Steuben  was  booked  under  that 
name),  and  wound  up  at  the  gangway  in  a 
very  affable  mood. 

"Good-by,"  said  he,  shaking  Brinton's 
hand  cordially.  "  Pray  give  my  respects 
to  your  father.  We  have  had  so  many 
dealings  with  one  another  that  I  feel  as 
though  I  knew  him.  I  trust  you  will  have 
a  good  voyage.  The  wind  is  all  you  could 
wish." 

Brinton  saw  him  again  on  the  dock  as  the 
Flamand  left  the  harbor,  and  waved  him  a 
farewell. 

Some  two  hours  later,  as  M.  Achille 
Peyron  came  out  of  his  warehouse  in  the 
Rue  Coutellerie,  there  dashed  by  him,  headed 
toward  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  a  sorrel  horse, 
bearing  a  man  in  the  royal  red  and  yellow 
266 


A  Soldier  sails  over  the  Sea 

livery,  a   king's  courier,    hard -galloping  and 
flecked  with  foam. 

But  the  good  ship  Flamand,  Captain  Icha- 
bod  Elderkin,  had  passed  the  Forts  St.  Nico-, 
las  and  St.  Jean,  and,  with  all  sails  set, 
ploughed  the  blue  waters  of  the  Mediter 
ranean. 


267 


CHAPTER   XVI 

IN    WHICH    MR.    EDWARD    SHIPPEN    FIGHTS     THE 
EARL    OF    HARBOROUGH 

THE  news  of  the  capture  of  Mr.  Edward 
Shippen  and  of  the  Earl  of  Harborough 
created  consternation  at  Judge  Shippen's  resi 
dence  and  vexation  at  General  Howe's  head 
quarters.  Sir  William  began  negotiations 
for  the  exchange  of  the  earl,  while  Judge 
Shippen,  very  much  out  of  temper  that 
Edward,  who  was  a  non-combatant,  should 
have  been  carried  off  in  such  fashion,  took 
steps  at  once  to  obtain  his  release.  Major 
Andre  was  out  of  temper  likewise,  for  the 
earl  had  learned  his  part  of  lover  in  the 
"  Constant  Couple,"  and  it  was  extremely 
annoying  to  have  him  whisked  off  the  stage 
at  the  time  of  the  final  rehearsal.  It  was  not 
less  annoying  to  Judge  Shippen  to  have 
Edward  whisked  off  the  field  of  action,  for 
he  had  received  no  answer  from  Miss  Allen, 
and  under  present  circumstances  he  could 
not  very  well  demand  one  until  he  was  in 
possession  of  his  son.  Therefore  Judge 
Shippen  and  Major  Andre  used  strong  lan- 
268 


Mr.  Edward  Shippen   fights  the   Earl 

guage,  referring  to  Captain  Me  Lane  in  a 
manner  far  from  flattering.  Captain  McLane, 
however,  who  cared  nothing  at  all  for  the 
vexations  of  Judge  Shippen  and  Major  Andre, 
was  well  pleased  with  himself,  and  had  taken 
his  prisoners  to  the  American  camp  at  White 
Marsh. 

Although  from  boyhood  he  had  been  under 
the  heel  of  parental  authority,  there  was  good 
blood  in  Edward,  as  in  all  the  Shippens,  and 
he  was  very  much  in  earnest  when  he  lashed 
the  Earl  of  Harborough  with  his  riding-whip 
at  Germantown.  The  Englishman's  insult 
ing  sneers,  rendered  doubly  exasperating  by 
the  fact  that  they  were  uttered  before  the 
one  woman  with  whom  Edward  wished  to 
stand  well,  had  roused  the  father-ridden  son 
to  assert  himself  for  the  first  time,  and  though 
on  sober  second  thought  he  was  somewhat 
frightened  at  the  consequences,  he  still  did 
not  regret  his  action.  Harborough  had  chal 
lenged  him,  he  had  accepted  the  challenge, 
and  at  the  first  opportunity  he  meant  to 

%ht. 

The  American  camp  on  the  hills  north  of 
the  Elmar  house  extended  from  Wissahickon 
Creek  to  Sandy  Run,  and  consisted  of  rude 
log  huts,  flanked  by  pentagonal  redoubts. 
Mr.  Shippen  was  shut  up  in  Mather's  mill, 
from  the  windows  of  which  he  could  see  the 
Pennsylvania  Continentals,  some  with  shabby 
269 


Brinton  Eliot 

brown  coats  faced  with  buff,  some  with  green 
coats,  and  others  with  no  coats  at  all,  march 
ing  and  countermarching.  Upon  one  occa 
sion  he  heard  general  orders  read,  in  which 
the  commander-in-chief  offered  a  prize  of 
ten  dollars  to  the  soldier  who  could  make  the 
best  shoes  out  of  raw  hides ;  serviceability 
was  the  prime  requisite,  and  style  was  left  to 
the  fancy  of  the  artisan.  Occasionally  Mr. 
Shippen  was  allowed  to  walk  about  with  a 
guard,  and  learned  speedily  that  beef  was  a 
shilling  a  pound,  that  a  pair  of  leather 
breeches  cost  twenty  dollars,  and  that  the 
luxuries  of  this  world  were  pork,  pease,  rice, 
butter,  and  rum.  The  Earl  of  Harborough, 
who  was  confined  with  others  in  the  big 
thatched  barn  near  Elmar's  spring  house, 
could  see  the  gray  and  green  coats  of  the 
Maryland  Continentals,  and  he  too  learned 
of  the  luxury  of  this  world,  for  one  of  the 
Maryland  boys  was  obliging  enough  to  loan 
him  a  razor  and  some  soap.  Thus  several 
weeks  passed,  and  it  was  November  before 
Shippen  had  the  opportunity  he  sought.  He 
might  not  have  had  it  even  then  but  for  the 
stupidity  of  Fritz  Tilghman.  Tilghman  of 
the  Second  Pennsylvania  was  blessed  with 
little  besides  an  excellent  constitution.  "  Was 
meinen  Sie  damit  ? "  ("  What  do  you  mean 
by  that  ? ")  was  ever  on  his  tongue,  for  his 
wits  worked  slowly. 

270 


Mr.  Edward  Shippen  fights  the  Earl 

On  a  chill  November  afternoon  Shippen 
walked  with  Tilghman  toward  the  pentagonal 
redoubt,  and  on  passing  an  angle  of  oak  tree- 
trunks  about  the  temporary  works,  he  per 
ceived  the  Earl  of  Harborough.  It  was  the 
first  time  the  two  men  had  met  since  their 
capture  by  Me  Lane.  Harborough  was  less 
florid  than  usual,  and  his  scarlet  and  gold 
lace  decidedly  less  fresh,  but  he  carried  him 
self  quite  in  his  old  manner;  it  was  very 
doubtful  if  he  had  ever  thanked  the  Mary 
land  boy  who  loaned  him  the  razor  and  soap. 
Shippen,  who  was  some  three  or  four  inches 
shorter  than  the  earl,  wore  riding-boots  and 
brown  breeches,  a  dark  brown  coat  with  steel 
buttons,  and  a  red  waistcoat,  much  embroid 
ered  but  slightly  soiled,  and  his  hair  beneath 
his  cocked  hat  had  lost  its  powder.  The  de 
scendant  of  the  great  first  Edward  was  no 
longer  the  neat,  well-dressed  individual  who 
came  lightly  of  a  morning  out  of  the  big 
house  in  Philadelphia.  Of  the  name  or  ap 
pearance  of  the  guard  accompanying  Har 
borough  it  seems  impossible  to  find  any 
trace ;  he  belonged,  probably,  to  the  Mary 
land  Continentals,  but  that  is  all  that  can  be 
said. 

Mr.  Shippen  had  noticed  that  Tilghman 
carried  a  brace  of  pistols ;  and  on  seeing  Har 
borough,  he  turned  to  the  German  with  the 
remark,  "  You  keep  your  pistols  remarkably 
271 


Brinton  Eliot 

clean.     Would  you  mind  letting  me  look  at 
that  one  for  a  moment  ?  " 

"  Deese  vun,"  said  Tilghman,  taking  the 
designated  weapon  from  his  belt,  "ees  not 
sooch  a  goot  vun.  Deese  odder  vun  I  dink 
ish  goot  vun." 

Shippen  took  the  pistol  and  examined  it, 
but,  instead  of  handing  it  back,  said  somewhat 
hurriedly,  "  This  seems  excellent.  You  think 
the  other  is  better  ?  May  I  compare  them  ?  " 

Tilghman  was  proud  of  his  pistols,  and 
passed  the  second  one  over  to  Shippen.  It 
seems  incredible  that  a  soldier  of  the  Second 
Pennsylvania  could  have  been  so  stupid,  but 
the  fact  remains  none  the  less,  and  facts  are 
strange  things  at  times.  Then  the  mutton- 
headed  fellow  stood  there  with  a  grin  on  his 
fat  face,  expecting  to  hear  his  pistols  praised. 
Shippen,  however,  said  nothing  about  the 
second  pistol,  but  turned  on  his  heel  and 
walked  toward  Harbo rough.  "  Was  meinen 
Sie  damit  ?  "  said  the  bewildered  Tilghman. 
It  was  ever  on  his  tongue. 

Shippen  was  excited,  and  was  evidently 
working  hard  to  keep  up  his  nerve. 

"  This  is  the  first  chance  I've  had  at  you," 
he  cried.  "  There  !  take  your  pick  of  those. 
I'll  fight  you  right  here  and  now." 

"You    young    fool!"    said     Harborough, 
scornfully.     "  I'll  fight  you  fast  enough,  but 
in  a  proper  place  and  at  a  proper  time." 
272 


Mr.  Edward  Shippen  fights  the   Earl 

Shippen  whipped  off  his  hat,  and  struck 
the  earl  full  in  the  face. 

"  Damn  you !  "  cried  Harborough,  seizing 
a  pistol,  "  I'll  kill  you  !  " 

"  Unless  I  kill  you.     Twelve  paces !  " 

The  gray-coated  Maryland  guard  ran  for 
ward,  tripped  over  a  small  tree-trunk,  and 
went  down,  and  while  the  stupid  Tilghman 
bawled  his  idiotic,  "  Was  meinen  Sie  damit?  " 
Shippen  and  Harborough  walked  and  whirled. 
Two  sharp  reports  rang  out.  With  a  smok 
ing  pistol  in  his  hand  the  Earl  of  Harborough 
stood  erect,  but  Mr.  Edward  Shippen  reeled 
and  sank  helpless  on  the  sod. 


273 


CHAPTER  XVII 

IN    WHICH    THE    FLAMAND    FIGHTS    THE 
DUCHESS    OF  CUMBERLAND 

THE  morning  of  the  i2th  of  November 
dawned  cold  and  gray  on  the  Atlantic.  A 
stiff  breeze  had  been  the  harbinger  of  the 
light,  and  the  Flamand,  under  half  canvas, 
held  her  course  northwest  by  west.  She  had 
had  a  tempestuous  passage.  Twice  her  fore 
castle  had  been  on  fire,  and  that  with  sev 
enteen  hundredweight  of  gunpowder  in  the 
hole.  But  by  prompt  action  day-work  had 
worsted  danger,  and  she  came  now,  plough 
ing  a  choppy  sea,  her  black  guns  peering 
through  her  ports.  Day  broadened,  and  the 
lookout  descried  a  sail  to  starboard.  Before 
seven  o'clock  three  great  white  topsails  had 
risen  above  the  horizon.  "What  be  she?" 
cried  Elderkin ;  and  from  the  lofty  foremast 
the  lookout  shouted,  "  A  frigate,  carrying  the 
British  flag ! " 

With  that  the  boatswain's  whistle  piped  fore 

and  aft,  the  starboard  watch  came  tumbling 

out  of  the  main   hatch,  and  Brinton  Eliot, 

Baron  Steuben,  and  the  Comte  de  Sainte- 

274 


Flamand  fights  Duchess  of  Cumberland 

Lucie,  leaving  their  half-eaten  breakfasts, 
rushed  on  deck,  to  find  the  captain  giving 
orders  rapidly.  Heathcote's  trumpet  was 
sounding,  the  studding-sails  were  filling,  high 
up  on  the  yards  men  were  crawling,  and  from 
topgallant  to  main-course  wide  sheets  of  white 
canvas  blossomed  out  on  every  mast.  The 
Flamand,  like  a  great  gull,  spread  her  wings. 

"  Wohl  auf!  hop-sos sa  !  "  cried  the  baron  ; 
and  he  stood  there,  crushing  his  cocked  hat 
on  his  head  with  one  hand  and  holding  his 
glass  to  his  eye  with  the  other.  "  Monsieur 
Eliot !  "  said  he,  suddenly.  "  Voila  /  Le  dra- 
peau  d'  Angleterre  /  " 

The  Flamand  was  a  good  sailer,  and  by 
eight  o'clock  she  was  rapidly  approaching 
the  enemy.  About  nine  Elderkin  luffed  a 
little,  and  as  the  matches  had  been  smoking 
for  a  good  half-hour,  he  fired  a  forward  bat 
tery,  but  his  shots  fell  short.  As  the  distance 
lessened,  the  British  ship  discharged  her  guns, 
but  the  rough  cross  sea  rendered  it  difficult 
for  her  to  rake.  Aboard  the  Flamand  grape 
and  canister  screeched  through  the  rigging, 
but,  seeing  his  masts  safe,  Elderkin  shouted 
through  his  trumpet :  "  Make  sail !  Ready 
th'  fore  royal !  "  And  in  loud  tones  came  the 
answer,  "  Ready  aft,  sir !  "  Brinton,  seizing  a 
rammer,  ran  to  the  forward  battery,  where 
there  was  work  for  all  hands.  Steuben 
whipped  off  his  coat,  and  helped  in  hoisting 

275 


Brinton  Eliot 

shot  up  from  the  hole  like  any  powder-monkey, 
and  the  sight  of  the  adjutant-general  of  the 
great  Frederick  so  inspired  the  half-naked 
fellows  that  they  found  time  to  give  him  three 
cheers. 

With  the  flag  of  England  at  her  mizzen- 
mast  the  frigate  bore  down  upon  them,  pok 
ing  her  big  black  bowsprit  forward  like  a 
thing  of  life ;  and  then,  squaring  her  yards 
suddenly,  she  crossed  the  Flamand's  bows, 
letting  drive  a  broadside  which  sent  the  .main- 
topsail  yard  crashing  across  the  fore-topsail 
braces,  and  brought  five  sailors  fluttering, 
like  wounded  pigeons,  through  the  rigging 
—  two  dead  upon  the  deck  and  three  sinking 
in  the  sea.  So  far  so  good  for  Britannic  Maj 
esty,  and  across  the  white  foam  that  flecked 
the  blue  waves  swept  the  smoke  of  a  king's 
guns  and  the  shouts  of  his  subjects.  For  to 
this  point  has  the  thing  advanced,  and  to  this 
end  have  they  met  on  the  high  seas,  that  they 
who  toss  tea  may  learn  that  George  the  Third 
rules,  and  no  other.  The  crux  is  come,  and 
in  it  will  Elderkin,  of  stout  New  England 
fighting  stock,  find  that  his  thirty  years  of 
sailing  have  brought  him  to  no  better  end 
than  the  gun  thunder  of  Britannic  Majesty 
and  Wigglesworth's  "  Day  of  Doom  "  ?  He 
answers :  roar  and  thunder  go  his  port  guns, 
earnest  and  incessant ;  for  on  the  high  seas 
and  under  God's  heaven  there  is  that  which 
276 


Flamand  fights  Duchess  of  Cumberland 

no  king  can  rule.  Swift  sheets  of  flame  leaped 
through  the  ports,  and  the  decks  shook  at  the 
recoil.  "  Drive  thim  frum  th'  yards  ! "  cried 
Elderkin.  "  Give  'em  grape  !  "  And  again 
the  frigate  was  raked  by  the  Flamand 's  guns. 
For  a  moment  the  Englishmen  fancied  their 
foe  was  on  fire,  but  that  fancy  went  overboard 
with  their  main-topmast  and  part  of  their  rig 
ging,  and  confusion  came  in  its  place.  With 
her  decks  bloody  and  her  cockpit  filling  up 
with  wounded,  the  frigate  drew  away  and 
tacked,  and  for  some  forty  minutes  both  ships 
manoeuvred  for  position,  their  hulls,  like  huge 
bulls,  snorting  furiously  from  time  to  time. 
In  a  wide  waste  of  waters  they  blazed  and 
bellowed,  they  and  others  elsewhere ;  for  it 
was  no  light  task  to  teach  wisdom  to  dull 
wits  at  Windsor. 

Forty  minutes  of  this  sort  of  thing,  how 
ever,  sufficed  for  Elderkin.  Let  the  risks  of 
raking  be  what  they  might,  he  would  luff  up 
and  make  end.  There  he  stood  by  the  rail, 
his  raw-boned  figure  taut,  his  hands  clasped 
behind  him  under  the  skirts  of  his  coat,  and 
twice,  at  the  sound  of  the  British  guns,  he 
tossed  his  coat  tails  energetically.  The  Fla 
mand,  shrouded  in  the  smoke  which  blew 
from  the  frigate,  advanced  silently,  too  silently 
for  Heathcote,  who  grew  anxious. 

"  Cap,"  he  cried,  "  ain't  ye  goin'  ter  fire  ?  " 
"  Not  yit !  "  said  Elderkin.    "  Git  them  guns 
277 


Brinton  Eliot 

double-shot.  I'll  wait  till  I  kin  see  th'  buttins 
on  their  coats." 

Thus  Elderkin ;  and  truly  that  was  a  great 
moment  in  a  career  which  had  begun  with 
the  "  Bay  Psalm- Book."  His  late  lamented 
aunt,  —  she  of  the  Puritan  primness  and  the 
Cotton  Mather  prophecy,  —  what  would  have 
been  the  foreword  of  her  greeting  had  she 
fronted  him  as  he  rode  the  high  seas,  holding 
hell-fire  and  damnation  in  the  hollow  of  his 
hand  ? 

Therefore  the  Flamand  wore,  stood  for  the 
frigate,  and  got  athwart  her  bows ;  and  when 
the  ships  were  at  the  distance  of  a  pistol-shot, 
Elderkin  said  to  Heathcote,  without  turning 
his  head,  "  Fire  naow !  "  All  the  ports  flamed, 
and  the  broadside  thundered,  and  shouts 
shook  the  decks,  and  timbers  were  shivered. 
Down  in  the  gray  smoke  the  Flamand 's  gun 
ners  were  sweating,  and  aboard  her,  let  none 
fancy  that  a  veteran  of  the  Seven  Years'  War 
stood  idle,  or  that  a  son  of  France,  one  of 
whose  far-distant,  mail-clad  sires  had  marched 
with  the  great  Charles,  failed  to  lend  a  hand. 
Once  more  the  black  guns  blew  their  hot  and 
deadly  breath,  and  at  the  sound  of  it  the  miz- 
zenmast  with  the  flag  of  England  cracked  and 
crashed,  and  left  the  frigate  lurching.  She 
gave  a  feeble  broadside  as  the  Flamand  luffed 
again  across  her  bows,  and  with  that  resist 
ance  ceased.  There  was  no  hauling  down  of 
278 


Flamand  fights  Duchess  of  Cumberland 

colors ;  the  colors  were  down,  and  Elderkin, 
flushed  with  victory,  hailed,  "  Who  be  ye  ?  " 

"  His  Majesty's  frigate  Duchess  of  Cumber 
land,  twenty-six." 

"  This  here's  \\\  Flamand,  U.S.  of  Ameriky, 
twenty-four." 

His  raw-boned  figure  became  less  taut,  and, 
turning  round  to  Heathcote,  he  added: 
"  They're  mine  !  Blow  me,  ef  they  ain't !  " 

This,  then,  was  victory,  and  it  was  now 
time  to  count  the  cost  of  it.  The  Flamand 
had  had  fourteen  men  killed  and  twenty-three 
wounded ;  while  on  the  frigate  the  dead 
numbered  fifty-two,  and  the  wounded  in  the 
cockpit  one  hundred  and  ten.  The  smoke 
drifted  slowly  away,  and  in  a  small  boat 
Heathcote,  with  a  picked  crew,  went  over  to 
the  Duchess  of  Cumberland.  Captain  Bal- 
lingford's  naval  career  had  been  cut  short,  and 
there  was  nothing  left  for  him  but  to  enter 
that  small  boat,  cross  to  the  Flamand,  and 
give  his  sword  to  Elderkin.  Since  there  was 
no  alternative,  he  entered  and  seated  himself, 
placed  his  sword  between  his  knees,  leaned 
on  the  hilt,  and  said  not  a  word  on  the  way 
over.  Before  him  bright  blades  cut  the  water 
keenly,  and  as  they  passed  the  wrecked  miz- 
zenmast  of  the  frigate,  the  blade  of  an  oar 
caught  up  a  fold  of  colored  bunting  which, 
at  the  next  stroke,  sank  under  the  shifting 
waters.  It  was  the  flag  of  England. 
279 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

THE    HEYDAY    OF    SIR   WILLIAM    HOWE 

IN  Philadelphia,  meanwhile,  the  British 
were  preparing  for  a  pleasant  winter,  and  as 
the  formal  festivities  opened  on  the  i4th  of 
November  with  a  grand  ball  at  the  City  Tav- 
vern,  there  was  much  activity  among  the 
makers  of  fly  hoops,  fan  hoops,  bell  hoops, 
pocket  hoops,  and  in  short  among  all  mantua- 
makers.  Such  sewing  and  basting,  powder 
ing  and  pomading,  Philadelphia  had  never 
seen,  for  the  women  of  Philadelphia,  heedless 
of  Quakers  who  raised  their  hands  in  horror, 
had  resolved  on  that  occasion  to  be  modish 
or  die.  A  new  Alexander  had  shot  athwart 
the  military  horizon,  Sir  William  Howe,  and 
he,  and  the  fame  of  him,  according  to  the 
redcoats,  surpassed  all  commanders,  past, 
present,  or  to  come.  What  could  be  more 
fitting,  then,  than  that  mantua-makers  should 
fashion  his  immortal  laurels  ?  He  drove  each 
day  with  Mrs.  Pemberton's  coach  and  pair  — 
a  well-built,  well-bred  man  of  mediocre  talent, 
not  the  only  general  in  history  whose  laurels 
were  mantua-maker  made. 
280 


The   Heyday  of  Sir  William   Howe 

The  ball-room  and  the  card-rooms  of  the 
City  Tavern  were  bright  with  many  lights, 
and  the  dames  and  daughters  of  the  Chews, 
the  Winthrops,  the  Aliens,  the  Cadwaladers, 
the  Franks,  the  Auchmutys,  the  Bonds,  the 
Redmans,  were  on  hand  —  fortresses  to  which 
redcoats  with  mantua-makers'  laurels  were 
well  fitted  to  lay  siege.  There  was  no  lack 
of  the  latter,  truly,  in  pumps,  silk  stockings, 
and  satin  small-clothes,  ruffles,  and  gay  waist 
coats,  and  for  the  rest,  clad  in  that  cock-sure 
scarlet  of  His  Britannic  Majesty,  bull-headed, 
dandified,  and  domineering.  This  was  their 
heyday,  and  for  months  to  come  Philadelphia 
was  to  be  filled  with  their  brag  and  their 
bluster  and  their  foolish  fanfaronading,  until, 
by  God's  grace,  we  swept  them  and  their 
cock-sure  scarlet  from  it  and  from  the  face  of 
a  free  land. 

Mrs.  Chauncey  Winthrop  regretted  that  she 
had  come  to  please  her  daughter,  for  the  blaze 
of  scarlet  vexed  her  righteous  soul. 

"  Lud ! "  said  she,  settling  herself  beside 
Mrs.  Pemberton,  "  'tis  amazing  how  they  take 
on.  Polly  has  caught  the  plague,  and  here 
I  am,  willy-nilly,  chained  to  Sir  William's 
chariot  wheels." 

"  'Tis  amazing,  indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Pember 
ton.  "  But  if  Sir  William  has  taken  Philadel 
phia,  Betty  Allen  has  taken  Sir  William.  He 
has  dangled  about  her  ever  since  he  came  in." 
281 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  'Twould  make  some  girls  giddy-pated," 
said  Mrs.  Winthrop,  "  but  Betty  has  uncom 
mon  sense.  Lud  !  The  Earl  of  Harborough 
and  young  Edward  Shippen  fought  a  duel 
about  her.  Most  monstrous  !  And  Betty  is 
terribly  distressed.  She  is  like  to  give  Sir 
William  some  sharp  raps  for  exchanging 
Captain  Crawford  for  the  earl." 

"  Entre  nous?  said  Mrs.  Pemberton,  "  is 
not  Mrs.  Allen  trying  to  marry  her  to  the 
earl?" 

"  She  is  indeed.  'Tis  most  outrageous.  I 
have  a  mind  to  tell  her  so,  and  I  dare  say  we 
shall  have  a  scene." 

"  And  where  is  Edward  now  ?  " 

"  Edward  is  out  at  Valley  Forge.  Mrs. 
Greene  has  been  very  kind  to  him  and  writes 
that  he  is  recovering  from  his  wound.  But 
the  Shippens  are  in  a  furious  temper." 

"  I  never  imagined  that  Edward  was  in  love 
with  Betty." 

"  I  don't  know  that  he  is.  The  Shippens 
are  not  here  on  account  of  his  misfortune. 
There  is  no  love  lost  between  Mrs.  Allen  and 
Mrs.  Shippen,  I  can  tell  you." 

The  fiddles  played  merrily  the  music  of  a 
contra-dance,  and  there  was  much  rustling  of 
petticoats,  and  flitting  to  and  fro  of  scarlet. 
The  gay  throng  surged  from  the  blue  punch 
bowls  across  the  wide  waxed  floor.  The 
women  with  their  painted  fans  went  forth  to 
282 


The  Heyday  of  Sir  William  Howe 

ball-room  battle,  and  fans  fluttered,  modestly, 
coquettishly,  amorously,  in  short,  with  all 
flutters  of  the  fan  manual. 

To  the  annoyance  of  Andre,  Tarleton,  De 
Lancey,  and  the  Hon.  Hytesbury-Lemington, 
Sir  William  Howe  continued  to  monopolize 
Miss  Allen.  A  fine  figure,  Sir  William's, 
in  all  the  pomp  and  glitter  of  a  British  gen 
eral's  uniform,  and  he  stood  there,  with  one 
hand  on  the  hilt  of  his  sword,  laughing  and 
chatting,  stood  and  had  stood,  causing  envious 
glances,  and  apparently  proposed  to  stand. 

"  Egad !  "  said  he,  smiling,  "  it  seems  that 
you  are  not  pleased  because  I  gave  Mr.  Wash 
ington  Captain  Crawford  in  exchange  for  the 
Earl  of  Harborou^h." 

^5 

"  It  is  good  form  here,  Sir  William,  to  say 
General  Washington." 

"  A  Whig,  by  Jove  !  " 

"  Ods !  Sir  William.  Have  you  been 
talking  to  me  all  this  time  without  discover 
ing  that  ?  You're  most  amazing  dull." 

"  '  And  gentle  Dulness  ever  loves  a  joke, ' : 
replied  Sir  William,  laughing. 

"  'Tis  the  second  time  in  ten  minutes  that 
Mars  has  summoned  the  Muse  to  aid  him," 
said  Betty,  merrily.  "  Pray  now,  from  what 
does  that  line  come  ?  " 

"  The  'Dunciad,'  if  I  remember  rightly." 

"  Oh,  the  '  Dunciad  ' !     I  am  not  over-fond 
of  poetry,  and  with  you  one  is  like  to  die  of 
283 


Brinton  Eliot 

it.  Therefore  /  cry  for  quarter.  But  be 
lieve  me,  Sir  William,  you  will  not  defeat 
General  Washington  with  an  epigram." 

At  that  moment,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
Sir  William  was  in  attendance,  Major  Andre 
had  the  hardihood  to  ask  Miss  Allen  for  the 
contra-dance.  Miss  Allen  accepted  promptly, 
and  gave  Sir  William  at  parting  a  magnifi 
cent  courtesy.  The  new  Alexander  was  left 
to  continue  his  progress  down  the  line  of 
flowered  and  festooned  petticoats,  and  gather 
his  mantua-makers'  laurels. 

Sir  William,  however,  in  passing  from 
Betty  to  the  tittering  of  Mrs.  Auchmuty  and 
the  blatant  effusiveness  of  Mrs.  Redman, 
found  himself  extremely  bored ;  and  as  he 
watched  Miss  Allen  dancing  with  Andre, 
the  new  Alexander,  who  could  muster  rhymes 
more  effectively  than  regiments,  muttered 
Suckling's  lines:  — 

"  Her  feet  beneath  her  petticoat 
Like  little  mice  steal  in  and  out, 

As  if  they  fear  the  light ; 
But  oh,  she  dances  such  a  way  ! 
No  sun  upon  an  Easter-day 

Is  half  so  fine  a  sight." 

But  Miss  Allen,  though  she  danced  di 
vinely,  was  very  unhappy.  She  expected  to 
encounter  the  Earl  of  Harborough  at  any 
moment.  Since  he  had  returned  to  Phila 
delphia  she  knew  that  she  must  meet  him 
284 


The  Heyday  of  Sir  William  Howe 

sooner  or  later,  and  though  she  might  have 
stayed  away  from  the  ball,  and  so  postponed 
the  inevitable,  she  preferred  to  face  the 
music.  The  fact  that  Harborough  had 
learned  of  her  father's  obligations  to  Judge 
Shippen  made  her  nervous.  It  was  not  sur 
prising  that  she  did  not  thank  Sir  William 
Howe  for  bringing  him  back. 

"  Od's  life !  "  said  Andre,  suddenly,  "  there's 
Harborough  looking  like  a  June  morning. 
He  ought  to,  with  his  income." 

Betty  turned  her  head  and  saw  the  earl, 
who  was  receiving  congratulations  from  sev 
eral  officers.  He  saw  her  also,  and,  as  soon 
as  the  music  ceased,  he  came  quickly  toward 
her.  There  was  no  escaping  him. 

"  Well,"  said  Andre,  "  here  you  are  at  last. 
The  ;  Constant  Couple '  went  off  without 
you.  DeLancey  took  your  part  at  the 
eleventh  hour  and  played  it  to  the  life." 

"  Oh,  I  dare  say,"  replied  Harborough,  and 
turning  to  Betty,  he  bowed  in  his  usual 
fashion.  "Miss  Allen,"  said  he,  "are  you 
not  glad  to  see  your  friends  ?  " 

Betty  ignored  the  question  altogether. 

"  Major  Bingham,"  said  she,  coldly,  "  I 
understand  that  you  have  fought  Mr. 
Shippen." 

"  The  young  fool  challenged  me,  and  —  " 

"  Because    you    had   insulted   him    in    my 
presence.     I  respect  him  for  it." 
285 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  And  you  despise  me  for  defending  you  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ?  " 

Andre  had  left  Miss  Allen  after  Har- 
borough  greeted  her,  and  at  the  moment 
Betty  and  the  earl  were  alone  near  the  door 
of  the  card-room. 

"  If  you  will  be  gracious  enough  to  grant 
me  a  few  moments'  conversation,  I  can  make 
myself  clear,"  replied  Harborough. 

Betty  walked  into  the  card-room  and  sat 
down.  The  earl  did  likewise. 

"  Now,"  said  she,  "  you  may  explain  what 
you  mean." 

"  I  will  be  frank  with  you,"  said  Har 
borough,  lightly,  "and  I  trust  you  will  es 
teem  me  a  man  of  honor.  While  at  West- 
wood  I  was  an  unwilling  listener  —  quite 
accidental,  I  assure  you,  and  quite  against 
my  will  —  to  a  conversation  between  your 
father  and  mother  on  the  subject  of  your 
father's  obligations  to  Judge  Shippen,  for  it 
seems  the  judge  can  ruin  your  father  unless 
you  marry  young  Shippen." 

Betty  bit  her  lip  and  said  nothing. 

"  In  camp  Shippen  boasted  of  this  fact, 
declaring  before  a  dozen  of  the  rebels  that 
your  father  would  sell  you  for  ,£10,000,  and 
that  he  would  have  you  yet.  I  slapped  the 
miscreant  across  the  mouth.  He  challenged 
me,  and  I  wounded  him.  Could  I  have 
done  less  ? " 

286 


The  Heyday  of  Sir  William   Howe 

Thus  this  rake  posed  as  a  man  of  honor, 
and  lied  with  an  easy  grace. 

Betty  had  risen  and  stood  there,  very  pale 
and  with  wide-open  eyes.  She  saw  again 
the  honest  face  of  Edward  Shippen  as  she 
had  last  seen  it  on  the  road  to  Germantown, 
when,  in  answer  to  Harborough's  remark 
about  Mr.  Allen's  indebtedness  to  Judge 
Shippen,  he  had  looked  at  her  and  asked 
what  it  all  meant.  That  was  the  Edward 
Shippen  she  had  known,  and  she  answered 
the  Earl  of  Harborough  firmly:  — 

"  Major  Bingham,  I  don't  believe  you  !  " 

The  earl  shrugged  his  shoulders  slightly. 

"  Egad !  "  said  he,  "  that  is  as  much  as  to 
say- — however,  no  matter.  The  facts  are  as 
I  have  told  you.  I  regret  that  you  don't 
believe  me.  I  give  you  the  word  of  a  man 
of  honor,  Miss  Allen,  that  I  will  keep  the 
secret,  and,  furthermore,  I  should  be  only  too 
glad  to  be  of  assistance  by  loaning  your 
father  the  sum  he  —  " 

"  Stop,  sir !  You  have  already  made  me 
the  subject  of  toasts,  you  have  connected  my 
name  with  a  duel.  I  beg  you  to  spare  me 
further  notoriety.  But  whatever  you  may 
do  or  not  do,  the  Aliens  have  not  sunk 
so  low  that  they  will  accept  favors  from 
the  Harboroughs.  You  may  go,  sir  ! " 


287 


CHAPTER  XIX 

FROM  THE  SEA  TO  THE  FORGE 

ON  the  ist  of  December  the  Flamand, 
weather-beaten  but  victorious,  arrived  at  the 
shores  of  New  Hampshire,  and  the  port  of 
Portsmouth.  The  Duchess  of  Cumberland, 
which  Elderkin  had  jury-rigged  and  turned 
over  to  Heathcote  and  a  picked  crew,  followed 
in  her  wake. 

M.  Duponceau,  the  baron's  secretary,  was 
sent  ashore  to  inform  the  commander  of 
Steuben's  presence.  Langdon  came  in  his 
barge,  and,  as  the  baron  put  it  afterwards  in 
a  letter  to  Hechingen,  all  Portsmouth  gath 
ered  "  to  see  the  elephant."  Steuben  in  full 
uniform,  Eliot,  and  the  Comte  de  Sainte- 
Lucie,  stepped  into  the  barge,  and  as  they 
crossed  the  harbor  the  guns  of  the  fortress 
fired  a  salute.  It  was  a  day  long  remembered 
among  worthy  Portsmouth  folk  when  the  ad 
jutant-general  of  the  great  Frederick,  who 
had  cut  his  ties  with  the  Old  World,  placed 
his  foot  on  the  shore  of  the  New,  which,  for 
the  remaining  seventeen  years  of  his  life,  was 
to  be  his  home.  Above  the  fortress  floated 

288 


From  the  Sea  to  the  Forge 

the  Stars  and  Stripes,  and  Brinton  Eliot, 
after  many  wanderings,  saw  again  his  country, 
and,  for  the  first  time,  his  country's  flag. 

They  dined  writh  General  Langdon,  about 
whose  house  more  than  two  hundred  people 
rubbed  elbows  in  their  eagerness  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  baron,  and  at  that  dinner  they 
first  heard  the  news,  the  most  glorious,  the 
surrender  of  Burgoyne. 

For  the  brass-helmeted  Brunswick  dra 
goons,  the  feathered  sachems  of  the  Mo 
hawks,  and  the  red-coated  British  regulars 
had  gone  down  before  the  yeomen  of  New7 
England,  and  the  fame  of  it  was  to  fill  a  wan 
dering  world.  Under  full  sail  it  was  sweep 
ing  the  wide  waters.  It  would  cause  Lord 
George  Germain  in  Pall  Mall  to  pigeonhole 
his  plan  of  campaign  with  an  oath ;  it  would 
paralyze  the  Lord  Chancellor  in  Great  Rus 
sell  Street,  Bloomsbury ;  it  would  knock  Lord 
North  in  Downing  Street  logger-headed  ;  and 
it  would  give  to  His  Britannic  Majesty  at 
Kew  a  fit  of  indigestion.  The  Common 
wealth  of  Massachusetts  had  sent  Jonathan 
Austin  on  a  swift  ship  to  carry  it  to  Paris, 
and  while  Steuben,  Eliot,  and  Sainte-Lucie 
dined  at  Portsmouth,  Austin  in  his  turn 
rolled  with  a  clatter  of  hoofs  and  a  rumble  of 
wheels  into  the  courtyard  of  the  Hotel  de 
Valentinois,  where  three  men  in  dire  extrem 
ity  had  need  of  him.  That  was  the  darkest 
u  289 


Brinton  Eliot 

hour  in  the  history  of  the  American  Embassy. 
News  had  reached  them  of  the  capture  of 
Philadelphia,  to  them  the  Revolution  seemed 
ready  to  collapse,  and  they  sat  together, 
Franklin,  Deane,  Beaumarchais.  Before  one 
loomed  financial  ruin,  and  the  others,  facing 
the  fall  of  all  their  hopes,  saw  themselves 
without  a  country,  pensioners  on  the  bounty 
of  a  Bourbon.  At  the  sound  of  Austin's 
carriage,  they  came  out,  pallid  in  the  lamp 
light.  "  Is  it  true,"  asked  Mr.  Franklin, 
"  that  the  British  have  taken  Philadelphia  ? " 
"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Austin.  The  old  man 
sobbed  and  tottered  toward  the  steps.  "  But, 
sir,"  cried  Austin,  "  I  bring  glorious  news. 
General  Burgoyne  and  all  his  army  are 
prisoners  of  war ! "  At  what  speed  Beau- 
marchais's  horses  galloped  back  to  Paris  !  At 
what  speed  his  horses  galloped  to  Versailles ! 
Baron  Steuben  set  out  almost  immediately 
for  York,  Pennsylvania,  where  Congress  then 
sat.  M.  Duponceau  and  the  Comte  de 
Sainte-Lucie  went  with  him,  but  Eliot  re 
mained  in  Portsmouth  to  arrange  for  the  sale 
of  the  Duchess  of  Cumberland.  Eventually 
the  ship  and  her  cargo  brought  more  than 
two  hundred  thousand  dollars,  American 
money.  The  arms  and  ammunition,  sent  by 
Roderique  Hortalez  &  Company  on  the 
Flamand,  were  unloaded,  and  the  proper 
arrangements  made  for  transportation.  There 
290 


From  the  Sea  to  the  Forge 

was  the  transfer,  too,  of  Ballingford  and  his 
men.  All  this  took  time,  but  the  days  were 
uneventful  and  had  better  be  passed  over. 

Elderkin,  sighing  for  new  conquests,  had 
applied  for  letters  of  marque,  and  the  morn 
ing  came  when  the  Flamand  was  ready  to 
sail  again.  Full-rigged,  she  was  a  fair  sight 
in  the  harbor. 

"  Gud-by,  Mr.  El'ot !  "  exclaimed  Elderkin, 
grasping  Brinton's  hand.  "  Th'  hull  thing 
hes  been  gret !  Ef  I  don't  scoop  in  prizes  fer 
yer  dad,  an'  th'  U.S.,  blow  me!  I  ain't  no 
pirate.  I  be  a  privateersman.  Th'  deef'runce 
atween  'em  's  all  th'  deef'runce  atween  hell 
an'  heav'n." 

"  Good-by,  Cap,"  said  Brinton.  "  Good-by 
and  good  luck.  The  Flamand  has  a  flag 
now,  Cap." 

"  Ye  kin  bet !  Gud-by,  Mr.  El'ot.  God 
bless  ye !  Tell  th'  Dutch  Burr'n  he's  gret." 

Then  the  good  ship  Flamand,  Captain 
Ichabod  Elderkin,  privateer,  passing  the  for 
tress  of  Portsmouth,  sailed  into  the  wide 
waters  of  the  Atlantic. 

Brinton  had  intended  to  go  to  Philadel 
phia,  but  that  was  now  impossible.  For  the 
present  he  could  see  neither  Westwood  nor 
the  house  in  Bowling  Green.  He  set  out, 
therefore,  for  Valley  Forge,  and,  on  reaching 
York,  was  not  a  little  surprised  to  find  Steu- 
ben  still  there.  Congress  had  received  the 
291 


Brinton  Eliot 

baron  with  open  arms,  but  had  delayed  him 
none  the  less,  for  York  was  in  a  sad  turmoil. 
Gates  was  there  the  hero  of  the  hour,  and 
the  watchword  of  the  discontented,  and  the 
Conway  Cabal  sought  to  unhorse  the  Man  of 
Trenton  and  elevate  the  so-called  Man  of 
Saratoga.  This  was  dirty  work,  but  the  very 
air  of  York  was  heavy  with  conspiracy. 
Steuben  and  Eliot  were  glad  to  flee  the 
plague,  and  on  the  23d  of  February  they 
reached  Valley  Forge. 

Near  the  Schuylkill  stood  the  small  stone 
house  of  Isaac  Potts,  the  headquarters  of  the 
commander-in-chief,  beyond  which,  at  no  great 
distance,  could  be  seen  the  huts  of  Hunting- 
ton's  and  Maxwell's  corps,  log-built,  snow- 
covered,  in  which  many  a  man  of  Bunker 
Hill  or  Brandy  wine  sat  in  a  uniform  as 
scanty  as  that  of  an  Iroquois  or  an  Apache, 
rubbing  his  frost-bitten  feet  and  damning 
Congress.  Farther  on  was  Knox  and  his 
artillery,  and  beyond  them  the  Pennsylvani- 
ans  of  "  Mad  Anthony,"  the  men  of  Patter 
son,  of  Muhlenberg,  of  others,  the  Army  of 
the  United  States,  internally  the  finest  troops 
in  the  world,  externally  shoeless,  coatless 
scarecrows,  with  stout  hearts  and  empty 
stomachs,  held  together  by  the  personality 
of  a  great  man,  and  warmed  only  by  the  fires 
of  patriotism  with  which,  fortunately  for  us 
all,  they  were  well  supplied. 
292 


From  the  Sea  to  the  Forge 

Here  then  was  the  forge  in  which  an  army 
was  to  be  made.  To  it  came  the  Prussian 
blacksmith  who  was  to  weld  and  hammer. 
His  coming  began  a  new  era,  and  on  the 
night  of  his  arrival  Washington  gave  as  the 
watchword  —  "  Steuben." 


293 


CHAPTER   XX 

AT   THE    FORGE 

ON  the  following  morning  the  commander- 
in-chief  and  the  baron  made  a  tour  of  the 
camp.  They  passed  sentinels  whose  bare 
feet  were  wrapped  in  dirty  rags,  who  were 
clad  in  horse  blankets,  and  who  carried 
muskets  covered  with  rust.  They  walked 
between  lines  of  low  huts  with  tattered  blan 
kets  for  doors,  from  behind  which  came 
groans,  and  more  than  once  feeble  cries  of 
"  no  pay !  "  "  no  provisions  !  "  They  saw  sol 
diers,  harnessed  like  mules,  dragging  wagons 
containing  the  scanty  supplies  the  neighbor 
hood  afforded.  The  commander-in-chief,  tall, 
stately,  with  his  cocked  hat  and  large  cock 
ade,  wrapped  in  his  long  dark  cloak,  strode 
on,  his  boots  crunching  the  snow.  It  must 
have  been  extremely  painful  for  him  to  show 
his  army  in  its  misery  to  the  adjutant-general 
of  the  great  Frederick.  The  thick-set,  red- 
faced  baron  paced  beside  him.  The  ragged 
sentinels  presented  arms.  When  they  had 
gone  from  redoubt  to  redoubt,  when  they 
had  seen  all,  Steuben,  who  had  made  few 
remarks,  turned  to  Washington. 
294 


At  the  Forge 

"  Gottstausend!"  said  he.  "You  hav'  in 
deese  blace  for  dree  mont'  kep'  dem  to- 
geder?  " 

"  Certainly." 

A  great  light  broke  in  upon  the  baron. 
"Je  vous  comprends  !  Je  voiis  comp rends  !  " 
he  cried,  and,  raising  his  cocked  hat,  he 
saluted  the  commander-in-chief.  "  I  do  not 
dink,"  said  he,  "  der  ees  at  deese  dime  a  man 
in  Europe  who  could  do  so." 

Eliot  entered  the  Fourth  New  York  and 
was  given  a  lieutenancy.  He  said  frankly 
that  he  had  everything  to  learn,  and  expressed 
himself  as  willing  to  serve  anywhere.  But 
Walker  soon  showed  him  the  folly  of  that 
under  the  circumstances.  For  New  York, 
as  for  New  Jersey,  the  regulation  uniform 
was  blue,  faced  with  buff,  with  white  buttons 
and  linings ;  but  at  that  time  not  a  man  in 
the  regiment  had  one,  although  at  the  mo 
ment  a  thousand  or  more  of  them  were  lying 
in  hogsheads  on  the  roads  and  in  the  woods, 
rotting  for  lack  of  transportation  ;  for  Con 
gress  had  kicked  Colonel  Joseph  Trumbull 
out  of  the  commissariat,  and  put  in  two  com 
missary-generals  who  played  battledore  and 
shuttlecock  continually.  However,  though 
the  Fourth  New  York  lacked  uniforms,  mus 
kets,  and  many  things,  they  had  Michael 
Gorrigan,  corporal,  and  he  did  much  to  keep 
them  going. 

295 


Brinton  Eliot 

"Sure,  lieutinant,"  said  he  to  Brinton,  "ye 
will  be  a  cridit  t'  th'  rigimint,  an'  no  mistake, 
bekase  ye  hev  on  ye  th'  unly  daycint  pair 
o'  breeches  in  't." 

"  I  have  another  pair,"  said  Brinton,  laugh 
ing  and  clapping  the  big  Irishman  on  the 
shoulder.  "  I'll  give  them  to  you,  and  in  re 
turn  you  must  show  me  something  about  the 
tactics." 

"  Tactics  ?  "  replied  Gorrigan.  "  Faith  !  'tis 
little  anny  wan  in  th'  rigimint  knows  about 
thim.  Whin  we  see  their  bloody  rid  bellies, 
we  giv'  'em  lead,  an'  thin  prisintly  we  see 
their  bloody  rid  backs.  Thim's  our  tactics ! 
Sure,  I  hev  been  at  Hairlem  Heights,  an' 
White  Plains,  an'  Trinton,  an'  th'  divil  knows 
where,  but  'tis  little  I  know  about  tactics. 
Th'  rist  is  th'  same.  Is  it  thrue  thot  th' 
Barron  Stewbun  will  review  us  this  day  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Brinton,  "I  believe  he  will 
very  shortly." 

"  Well,  sor,  wait  till  he  sees  th'  rigimintals 
on  th'  Foorth  New  Yark!  He  will  be 
parrallyzed.  Will  ye  come  wid  me  down  th' 
line  ? " 

As  they  walked  between  the  rows  of  snow- 
covered  huts,  Eliot  in  cocked  hat,  boots,  and 
brown  surtout,  and  Gorrigan  in  a  shirt  of 
soiled  blue  frieze,  with  a  powder-horn  slung 
on  his  shoulder,  with  leather  breeches  torn 
to  shreds,  bare  legs  covered  with  red  hair, 
296 


At  the  Forge 

and  foot-gear  which  possibly  some  years 
before  might  have  resembled  shoes,  the  latter 
said :  "  Ye  see,  lieutinant,  th'  bhoys  gits  cold 
an'  hongry  betimes.  Thin  I  hev  t'  perk  'em 
up  a  bit.  Sure,  I'm  sthrong  on  dis'plin', 


sor." 


At  that  moment,  from  a  hut  which  they 
were  passing,  a  voice  said  mournfully,  "  No 
pay ! "  Gorrigan  stopped,  pushed  aside  the 
dirty  blanket,  and  stuck  his  head  in.  "  T' 
hell  wid  pay !  "  said  he.  "  If  ye  hed  it,  'twud 
be  unly  th'  paper  money  o'  Congriss  which 
ain't  wurth  its  weight  in  wind.  Ye  air  as 
well  widout  it  as  wid  it.  Quit  grumblin' ! " 
They  went  on  again,  but  before  they  had 
gone  twenty  feet  some  one  said  sadly,  "  No 
provisions ! "  Gorrigan  stopped  again,  and 
thrust  aside  the  curtain.  "Sure,"  said  he, 
"  there's  thim  that's  rich  an'  can't  eat,  an'  wud 
giv'  good  money  fur  an  appetite.  Ye  hev 
th'  appetite,  an'  ye  air  not  contint.  Quit 
grumblin'!"  They  continued  down  the  line, 
and  reached  a  ragged  sentinel  who  saluted, 
remarking  at  the  same  time,  "  I  ain't  had 
s'  much  as  a  pertater  th'  hull  day."  "  T'  hear 
ye  talk,"  said  Gorrigan,  "anny  wan  wud 
sippose  thot  we  were  fightin'  fur  luxuries. 
We're  fightin'  fur  liberty,  ain't  we  ?  Quit 
grumblin' !  "  The  Fourth  New  York  had  a 
valuable  man  in  Michael  Gorrigan,  corporal. 

In  two  hours  the  grand  parade  was  held, 
297 


Brinton  Eliot 

and  the  Prussian  blacksmith  saw  the  work 
cut  out  for  him.  He  found  in  every  com 
pany  muskets,  carbines,  fowling-pieces,  rifles, 
powder-pouches,  tin  boxes,  cow-horns.  He 
saw  coats  of  every  kind  and  cut  from  well- 
worn  blue  or  green  uniforms  to  blankets  and 
bed-covers,  and  if  the  costumes  were  varied 
so  was  the  formation.  There  were  regiments 
of  three  platoons,  of  five,  of  eight,  of  nine,  of 
twenty-one,  each  with  its  own  mode  of  the 
manual  exercise  according  to  the  fancy  of  its 
colonel,  some  in  the  English  style,  some  in 
the  Prussian,  some  in  the  French.  There 
were  captains  who  had  no  roll  of  their  com 
panies,  and  colonels  who  could  not  tell  the 
strength  of  their  regiments.  "  How  many  in 
deese  vun  ?  "  he  asked  the  colonel  of  the 
Third  New  Jersey.  "  Something  between 
two  and  three  hundred,  sir."  "  Zomezings 
bed  ween?  Gott  im  himmel!  Zomezings 
bedween ! "  He  found  too  that  the  regi 
ments  could  neither  form  in  column  nor  de 
ploy  ;  that  of  the  little  manoeuvres  they  knew 
little,  and  of  the  grand  manoeuvres  nothing. 
Such  they  were.  Let  no  one,  looking  upon 
them,  smile.  For  they  were  soldiers,  not  of 
the  parade-ground,  but  of  the  battle-field,  to 
which  they  had  come  at  their  country's  call, 
where  they  had  been  kept  in  the  stress  of 
strife,  and  on  which  they  had  been  much  too 
busy  killing  redcoats  to  learn  the  military 
298 


At  the  Forge 

alphabet.  Likewise,  how  much  of  the  grand 
manoeuvres  could  be  known  by  colonels  and 
captains  who  had  only  Eland's  "  Exercise," 
and  Symmes's  "  Military  Guide  "  ?  The  baron 
saw  the  work  cut  out  for  him,  and  undaunted 
by  its  magnitude,  or  the  limited  means  at  his 
command,  he  went  at  it  hammer  and  tongs. 

At  seven  o'clock  on  the  following  morning, 
a  hundred  and  twenty  men  stood  near  the 
flagpole  on  the  snow-covered  parade-ground. 
Twenty  non-commissioned  officers  were  also 
in  waiting.  To  the  west  were  the  huts  of 
the  New  York  regiments,  and  beyond  them 
those  of  Wayne's  brigade.  "  What's  up?" 
said  Sprout  of  the  Fourth  New  York,  look 
ing  out  through  a  rent  in  his  blanket. 
"  Faith ! "  said  Gorrigan,  "  I  see  th'  Barron 
Stewbun  an'  th'  newr  lieutinant,  thot  giv'  me 
th'  breeches  I  hev  on  me.  Th'  barron's  a 
gun  in  'is  hand,  wid  a  bay'net.  Sure,  th' 
off'cers  in  this  rigimint  will  not  handle  a  gun. 
They  say  'tis  a  sargint's  jooty." 

The  thick-set  Steuben,  in  his  cocked  hat 
and  white  bag- wig,  with  his  blue  coat  faced 
with  red,  his  gold  epaulets,  and  high  boots, 
was  striding  across  the  parade-ground,  his 
sword  by  his  side,  and  in  his  hand  a  gun  with 
a  bright  bayonet.  For  one  thing,  among 
many,  he  desired  to  teach  the  American  sol 
dier  that  the  bayonet  was  to  be  used  for  some 
thing  besides  the  cooking  of  beef.  Eliot  came 
299 


Brinton  Eliot 

with  him  to  repeat  his  orders,  for  with  the 
exception  of  Eliot  and  Walker,  there  was  no 
one  who  could  speak  French,  and  the  baron's 
knowledge  of  English  was  as  limited  as  his 
knowledge  of  military  manoeuvres,  and  stock 
of  German  and  French  oaths,  was  extensive. 
Dividing  the  men  into  squads  of  eight,  he 
drilled  them,  going  through  the  manual  him 
self,  marching  with  them,  wheeling  with  them, 
and  damning  them  up  hill  and  down  dale. 
"  Sacre-bleu !  "  he  cried  in  dismay  at  the  end 
of  two  hours.  "  Gott-vertamn  de  gaucherie 
von  dese  badauts  /  I  can  curse  dem  no  more." 
But  the  same  thing  was  repeated  in  the  after 
noon,  and  so  on,  twice  a  day,  for  a  fortnight. 
At  the  end  of  that  time  the  awkward  fellows 
had  learned  perfectly  how  to  bear  their  arms, 
had  acquired  a  military  air,  and  manoeuvred 
with  excellent  precision.  They  were  paraded 
in  the  presence  of  all  the  officers,  to  the  de 
light  of  the  army,  and  were  made  the  guard 
of  the  commander-in-chief.  Steuben  applied 
his  system  to  battalions  and  to  brigades,  and 
in  three  weeks  more  executed  manoeuvres  with 
an  entire  division.  Then  he  issued  his  orders. 
Every  morning,  at  six  o'clock,  the  divisions 
were  ordered  to  general  parade,  soldiers  in 
squads  of  eight  to  be  drilled  in  ordinary 
marching  by  non-commissioned  officers.  At 
nine  came  the  parade  with  the  manual  of 
arms ;  at  noon,  particular  instruction  to  non- 
300 


At  the  Forge 

commissioned  officers ;  at  three  o'clock,  drill 
ing  in  divisions  as  in  the  morning;  at  six 
o'clock,  the  meeting  of  adjutants  at  the  baron's 
quarters  for  instruction  in  theoretic  manoeu 
vring. 

Nothing  could  have  been  better  than  the  en 
thusiasm  with  which  the  work  was  taken  up. 
Colonels,  captains,  lieutenants,  corporals,  all 
were  drilling.  It  was  interesting  to  hear 
Gorrigan  on  the  parade-ground  with  a  squad 
of  eight.  "  Keep  marchin' !  Keep  marchin' ! 
Throw  yer  chists  out  an'  yer  shoulders  back ! 
Sure,  th'  barren's  th'  bhoy  thot  will  make  ye 
throw  yer  chists  out.  Halt !  Prisint  ar-rms! 
Raykivver  yersilves !  Furward !  Keep  march- 
in'  !  Keep  marchin',  an'  befoore  ye  die  ye 
will  all  be  ginerals  !  " 

Such  was  the  work  in  which  Brinton  was 
engaged,  and  the  daily  calls  of  duty  plunged 
him  into  a  vortex  of  military  manoeuvres.  But 
in  the  midst  of  it  all,  on  the  parade-ground, 
again  and  again,  Westwood  and  Bowling 
Green  could  not  be  banished  from  his  mind, 
and  as  he  thought  of  those  who  dwelt  there, 
and  of  those  who  clutched  them,  he  forgot 
all  but  the  end  in  view,  and  worked  his  squads 
so  energetically  that  Gorrigan  exclaimed, 
"Faith !  lieutinant,  ye  will  hev  thim  kilt !  " 

If  he  was  depressed  at  times,  he  was  soon 
to  be  more  so,  and  to  receive  a  blow  for  which 
he  was  little  prepared.  On  an  April  evening, 
301 


Brinton  Eliot 

as  he  was  going  to  the  baron's  to  attend  the 
instruction  in  theoretic  manoeuvring,  a  cavalry 
captain  jumped  off  his  horse  at  the  head 
quarters  of  the  commander-in-chief,  and  when 
Brinton  came  round  in  front  of  the  stone 
house  he  ran  into  the  arms  of  Benjamin 
Tallmadge. 

Here  then,  at  Valley  Forge,  by  God's  provi 
dence,  was  the  brotherhood  of  Yale.  Under 
the  elms  these  sons  of  the  great  Mother  had 
said  good-by  when  they  began  life's  journey, 
little  dreaming  through  what  they  and  their 
country  would  pass  before  they  met  again.  In 
the  white  pews  of  the  old  brick  chapel  they 
had  formed  part  of  a  body,  undergraduate  and 
scholastic,  beneath  which  slumbered  a  body 
militant.  But  that  which  then  slumbered, 
there  and  elsewhere,  now  stood  forth,  booted 
and  spurred,  its  sword  by  its  side,  clad  in  its 
harness  of  blue  and  buff.  From  it  many 
men  would  learn  much,  and  among  others  a 
Britannic  Majesty. 

Tallmadge  was  now  a  captain  in  the  Con 
tinental  Horse  and  was  engaged  also  in  the 
secret  service  in  which  General  Washington 
had  found  him  efficient.  The  blow  came 
when  Brinton,  after  giving  the  reasons  which 
took  him  abroad,  concluded  by  saying :  "  You 
see  it  was  really  the  only  thing  for  me  to  do. 
I'm  glad  now  that  I  went  because  a  great 
deal  of  good  has  come  of  it  in  many  ways. 

302 


At  the  Forge 

Ben,  your  rig  fits  amazing  well.  How's 
Nathan?" 

Tallmadge  started  as  though  he  had  been 
struck. 

"Brinton!"  he  cried,  "don't  you  know?" 

"  Know  what,  Ben  ?  "  asked  Brinton.  And 
there  was  something  in  Tallmadge's  expres 
sion  which  made  him  add  anxiously,  "  What's 
wrong  with  Nathan  ?  " 

"  Nothing.  Everything's  right  with  Nathan 
now.  But  don't  ask  me  anything  more,  I  beg 
of  you." 

Brinton  saw  in  Ben's  face  much  more  than 
his  words  conveyed,  and  shivered. 

"  How  did  he  die  ?  " 

The  cavalry  captain  broke  down  completely, 
and  throwing  his  arm  round  Brinton's  neck, 
wept  on  his  shoulder. 

"Ben,"  said  Brinton,  "won't  you  tell  me? 
This  is  worse  than  if  you  told  me." 

"  He  was  killed,  Brinton.  He  died  like  a 
hero." 

"  That's  the  way  he  would  die,  Ben.  Where 
was  he  killed  ? " 

"  In  Ranelagh  Garden." 

"  In  Ranelagh  Garden  ?     How  came  he  —  " 

"  They  hung  him  as  a  spy !  " 

"Nathan?   They  hung  Nathan?   My  God!" 

The  next  hour  had  better  be  passed  over. 
One  has  no  right  to  pry  too  deeply  into  sorrow. 

When  they  walked   to  Brinton's  quarters 

3°3 


Brinton  Eliot 

they  passed  Gorrigan,  and  a  few  minutes  later 
the  corporal  said  to  Tiffin  of  the  Fourth  New 
York:  "Sure,  there's  some  bad  luck  in  this 
camp.  I  seen  Lieutinant  El'ot  an'  Cap' 
Tallmudge,  an'  their  faces  wuz  as  full  o'  wather 
as  th'  Schuylkill." 


304 


CHAPTER   XXI 

MR.    SHIPPEN    SIGNS    HIMSELF,    BUT     CEASES     TO 
BE,    A    DUTIFUL    SON 

MRS.  WASHINGTON  had  come  to  grace  the 
camp  with  her  cheerful  presence,  and  Mrs. 
Greene,  that  handsome  and  accomplished 
woman  at  whose  house  Steuben  drank  many 
a  cup  of  coffee  before  riding  to  parade,  had 
come  also.  She  had  been  very  kind  to  Mr. 
Edward  Shippen  during  his  convalescence, 
and  it  was  at  her  house  that  Brinton  met 
him  on  an  April  afternoon.  They  hardly 
knew  one  another,  for  in  the  old  days  in 
Philadelphia  they  had  had  merely  a  bowing 
acquaintance,  and  had  probably  never  ex 
changed  more  than  a  dozen  words.  At 
their  first  meeting  Brinton  asked  Shippen, 
naturally  enough,  how  he  came  to  be  there. 
Shippen,  at  the  moment,  was  not  overcom- 
municative,  and  said  simply  that  he  had  been 
captured  by  an  American  free  lance  and  had 
been  wounded  later  in  a  duel  with  the  Earl 
of  Harborough.  As  Brinton  knew  no  such 
person,  the  information  meant  nothing  to 
him.  He  asked  no  more  questions,  and 
x  305 


Brinton  Eliot 

matters  drifted  along  for  a  week.  It  was 
Mrs.  Greene  who  stirred  things  up.  Her 
house  was  the  rendezvous  where  they  took 
coffee  and  sang  simple  songs,  to  which  she 
played  accompaniments  on  the  harpsichord, 
for  even  Valley  Forge  had  its  brighter  side. 

"  Really,  baron,"  said  she,  for  she  spoke 
French  fluently  to  Steuben's  great  delight, 
"  you  must  take  Philadelphia  to  see  the  Amer 
ican  women,  if  for  no  other  reason,  for  I 
do  assure  you  that  the  women  of  Philadel 
phia  are  attractive  and  talented." 

"  Ganz  gut  /  But  I  doubt  if  they  surpass 
my  hostess,"  replied  the  baron,  gallantly. 
And  with  that  he  put  another  lump  of  sugar 
in  his  coffee. 

"  Baron,  you're  a  most  monstrous  flatterer," 
said  Mrs.  Greene,  laughing.  "  Lieutenant 
Eliot,  of  course,  will  say  the  New  York 
women  are  more  attractive.  Won't  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  you  see,"  said  Brinton,  "  I've  been 
away  from  New  York  so  long  that  —  really 
I  —  " 

"What!  Lieutenant,  do  you  decline  to 
champion  the  New  York  women  ? " 

"Oh,  no,  not  at  all.  But  I  don't  know 
that  I'm  a  judge." 

Mrs.  Greene  laughed  merrily. 

"  At  least,"  said  she,  "  you  will  not  deny 
the  attractiveness  of  the  women  of  Philadel 
phia?" 

306 


Shippen  ceases  to  be  a  Dutiful  Son 

"Gad!"  exclaimed  Brinton,  "I  should 
think  not!" 

"There!"  said  she,  triumphantly.  "You 
are  in  love  with  some  Philadelphia  girl. 
One  need  not  be  Minerva  to  discover  that." 

"  I  have  an  aunt  and  cousin  in  Philadel 
phia,"  answered  Brinton,  flushing,  "whom  I 
am  very  fond  of." 

"  Aunts  and  cousins  are  all  very  well, 
lieutenant,  but  one  does  not  flush  when 
one  talks  of  them." 

"Certainly  not,  Mrs.  Greene.  I'm  not 
flushing." 

"  Lieutenant,  you  are.     Is  he  not,  baron  ?  " 

"  Oh,  without  the  doubt,"  answered  the 
baron,  laughing. 

Brinton  laughed  too,  since  there  was  noth 
ing  else  to  be  done. 

"  I  should  quiz  you,"  continued  Mrs. 
Greene,  "  oh,  believe  me,  I  should  quiz  you 
thoroughly,  for  I  confess  my  weakness  for 
match-making,  but  just  now  I  have  a  love 
affair  of  Mr.  Shippen's  on  my  hands." 

"So  so?"  said  the  baron.  "Zounds!  he 
is  in  good  hands." 

"  Ah  !  baron.  You  are  ever  thus.  I  have 
been  interested  in  Mr.  Shippen  on  his 
mother's  account,  but  I  have  grown  to  like 
him  on  his  own.  I  think  it  has  pleased 
him  to  tell  his  trouble  to  a  woman  much 
older  than  himself.  The  young  fellow  loves 

3°  7 


Brinton  Eliot 

an  amazing  fine  girl,  but  there  are  many  com 
plications.  I  have  been  enchanted." 

"  Who  is  the  girl  ?  "  asked  Brinton. 

"  There  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Greene.  "  That 
is  just  like  men.  They  are  always  so  inquisi 
tive.  Since  Mr.  Shippen  has  taken  me  into 
his  confidence,  I  cannot  tell  you.  She  is 
quality  to  the  tips  of  her  fingers,  and  a  great 
belle." 

Brinton  asked  no  more  questions,  and  the 
conversation  turned  to  other  matters.  From 
that  time,  however,  he  took  more  interest  in 
Shippen,  wondering  if  the  duel  he  had  fought 
had  anything  to  do  with  the  love  affair. 

A  change,  meanwhile,  had  come  over  Mr. 
Edward  Shippen.  The  sights  and  sounds 
about  him,  the  flag  that  floated  above  his 
head  on  the  parade-ground,  and  the  enthu 
siasm  of  the  ragged  regiments  which  marched 
and  countermarched  before  his  eyes,  had 
had  their  effect.  With  the  healing  of  his 
wound  and  the  return  of  his  strength  there 
came  to  him  new  views,  new  purposes.  The 
descendant  of  the  great  first  Edward  was  no 
longer  content  to  go  through  life  on  the 
strength  of  the  fact  that  his  ancestor  had 
been  the  "  biggest  man  with  the  biggest  house 
and  the  biggest  coach  "  in  town.  Grand  as 
that  was,  he  felt  that  there  was  something 
above  and  beyond  it.  Here  were  men, 
physically  his  superiors,  whose  ancestors  had 

308 


Shippen  ceases  to  be  a  Dutiful  Son 

possessed  neither  big  houses  nor  big  coaches, 
but  who,  in  spite  of  that  disheartening  fact, 
had  flung  their  colors  to  the  breeze,  and  stood 
in  arms  to  die  for  them.  They  were  Whigs, 
and  Betty  Allen  was  a  Whig,  and  Edward 
Shippen  resolved  to  become  a  \Vhig  himself. 
A  mighty  resolve,  for  it  meant  the  upsetting 
of  traditions  in  a  family  which  had  been  from 
the  beginning,  it  involved  a  shaking  off  of 
the  shackles  of  a  parental  authority,  less  awe- 
inspiring  at  Valley  Forge,  no  doubt,  than  at 
Philadelphia,  but  none  the  less  formidable. 
He  was  filled  with  his  resolution,  so  much  so, 
in  fact,  that  he  felt  he  must  take  some  one 
into  his  confidence  and  ask  advice.  He  saw 
Brinton  Eliot  constantly  at  Mrs.  Greene's, 
and  Brinton  seemed  to  take  interest  in 
him.  He  decided  to  consult  Brinton  Eliot. 

"  Eliot,"  said  he  one  morning,  "  I'm  going 
to  join  one  of  General  Wayne's  regiments." 

"That's  first-rate,"  said  Brinton.  "Are 
you  strong  enough  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  Quite  so  now.  I  want  to  ask 
your  advice.  Don't  you  think  a  girl  who  is 
a  Whig  would  admire  me  more  if  I  were  one 
too?" 

"  I  should  think  so  certainly." 

"  There  will  be  trouble,  I  suppose.  My 
father  is  set  on  having  me  marry.  The  girl 
is  the  one  girl  I  want  to  marry.  But  as 
things  are  I  can't." 

3°9 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  That's  odd  !  " 

"  Not  so  odd  as  distressing.  Her  father 
owes  my  father  ;£  10,000.  I  find  my  father 
has  offered  to  carry  the  debt  if  she  marries 
me,  and  hinted  that  he  will  make  trouble  if 
she  does  not.  She  knows  it,  and  she  knows 
I  have  always  been  under  my  father's  thumb. 
Don't  you  see  how  she  views  me  ? " 

"  I  should  think  so !  If  she  is  worth  hav 
ing,  you  have  no  chance  at  all." 

"  Oh  !  but  indeed  she  is  worth  having.  I 
would  do  anything  to  stand  well  with  her. 
She  cannot  realize  that  I  have  not  been  party 
to  my  father's  plans.  If  I  become  a  Whig, 
and  stand  out  against  my  father,  don't  you 
think  she  will  realize  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  it  would  help  her  to." 

"  Come  over  to  my  quarters,"  said  Shippen, 
eagerly.  "  I'll  write  to  my  father,  at  once. 
I'd  like  to  have  you  read  the  letter,  and  see 
if  you  think  it  the  proper  thing  to  send." 

Brinton  was  doubtful  whether  he  ought  to 
pass  judgment  or  not,  but  he  went,  and  sat 
by  the  window  watching  the  Pennsylvanians 
marching  back  from  parade  to  their  log  huts, 
while  Shippen  fussed  about  with  his  paper, 
sand-box,  and  quill-box. 

The  descendant  of  the  great  first  Edward 
wrote  his  declaration  of  independence  very 
slowly,  read  it,  shook  sand  over  it,  read  it 
again,  and  finally  handed  it  to  Brinton.  This 

310 


Shippen  ceases  to  be  a  Dutiful   Son 

paper,  the  most  important  to  which  Edward 
Shippen  ever  put  his  name,  was  as  follows:  — 

"  MY  RESPECTED  FATHER:  I  have  quite 
Recovered  of  my  Wound  &  am  Fixt  on  a 
Resolve  which  may  call  out  y'r  Displeasure. 
Tis  Nothing  less  than  to  enter  Genl  Wash 
ington's  Army  &  tho'  I  have  not  writ  of  it  I 
have  had  it  in  Minde  more  than  One  Month. 
It  seems  Sir  that  I  must  choose  between  y'r 
Displeasure  &  the  Contempt  of  Mistress 
Allen  with  whom  I  have  Amazing  Desire  to 
stand  Well.  An  I  let  her  see  Sir  that  y'r 
Arrangements  with  Mr.  Allen  are  none  of 
mine  'tis  my  Hope  that  she  may  regard  me 
with  more  Esteem  &  Favour  than  she  has 
done  hitherto.  I  am  Sir  with  much  Respect 
y'r  Dutiful  Son,  EDWARD  SHIPPEN." 

Shippen,  who  was  watching  Brinton,  saw7 
that  he  started  and  changed  color  as  he  read. 
As  for  Brinton,  he  made  a  great  effort  to 
control  himself,  and  thought  he  succeeded. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  it  ? "  inquired 
Shippen. 

"  There  can  be  no  doubt  about  your  mean 
ing,"  said  Brinton,  slowly.  "  It  is  quite  clear." 

"  Do  you  think  it  will  do  ?  " 

"  I  dare  say  it  will." 

"  Father  will  be  furious,  I  suppose." 

"  Evidently  you  are  afraid  of  your  father." 
3" 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  I  have  been." 

"  Well,  you  know  him  better  than  I  do.  I 
think  your  letter  makes  your  position  plain." 

"  Do  you  know  Miss  Allen  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  If  I  go  into  the  army,  I  hope  she  will 
think  better  of  me." 

"  I  don't  believe  she  will  think  less  of  you 
for  that.  At  any  rate  you  have  planned  the 
only  decent  course.  Go  in  and  fight  for  the 
country,  and  if  I  can  serve  you  here  in  any 
way,  I  trust  you'll  let  me  know." 

Brinton  crossed  the  parade-ground  to  his 
own  quarters.  The  fact  that  Shippen  had 
hinted  that  the  judge  could  make  trouble  for 
the  Aliens  worried  him  not  a  little.  He 
fancied  rightly  enough  that  the  judge,  after 
receiving  his  son's  letter,  would  desire  to 
square  accounts  with  somebody,  and  the  fact 
that  his  making  trouble  for  the  Aliens  could 
be  even  suggested  showed  that  Mr.  Allen  for 
some  reason  was  unable  to  meet  his  obliga 
tions.  Fifty-two  per  cent  of  the  money  from 
the  sale  of  the  Duchess  of  Cumberland  be 
longed  to  Brinton.  He  knew  what  he  could 
do,  and  desired  to  do  it,  but  he  was  perplexed, 
nevertheless,  feeling  naturally  enough  that 
to  write  to  Mr.  Allen  was  a  delicate  matter. 
However,  he  was  not  a  person  to  hesitate  long 
in  an  affair  of  this  kind,  and  by  the  time  he 
reached  his  quarters  his  mind  was  made  up. 

312 


Shippen  ceases  to  be  a  Dutiful  Son 

He  found  there  Ben  Tallmadge  and  the 
Comte  de  Sainte-Lucie.  They  both  wanted 
to  talk,  but  Brinton  answered  in  an  absent 
way  that  he  had  a  letter  to  write,  and  would 
talk  with  them  later.  Then,  going  into  the 
small  room  adjoining,  he  sat  down  to  write 
to  Mr.  Keayne  Allen.  It  was  a  matter  of 
great  delicacy,  and  it  must  be  confessed  that 
it  was  done  at  a  disadvantage.  Tallmadge 
and  Sainte-Lucie  talked  continually  in  loud 
tones,  while  through  the  window  came  the 
racket  of  a  dozen  light-hearted  blades,  sing 
ing  merrily  and  out  of  tune :  — 

"  With  awkward  stitches,  mending  breeches 

Is  the  soldier's  trade. 
O'er  frozen  fields  loud  beats  the  drum, 

And  at  the  dawn  the  shrill  fifes  come. 
With  stiff  didactics,  learning  tactics 

Is  the  soldier's  trade. 
Hip,  hip,  again  !     Long  live  Steuben  ! 

Behold  his  boys  parade  !  " 

It  was  the  song  Walker  had  written  for 
that  supper  of  beefsteak,  potatoes,  and  hickory 
nuts,  given  by  Steuben  to  the  young  officers 
who  could  not  boast  a  whole  pair  of  breeches, 
and  which  the  worthy  baron  had  called  the 
supper  of  his  "  sans-culottes." 


313 


CHAPTER   XXII 

IN   WHICH    MR.   KEAYNE    ALLEN    PAYS    HIS  DEBT 

AT  Westwood  spring  was  coming  and  the 
freshness  of  it.  There  was  sunshine  on  the 
white  columns  of  the  big  brick  house,  the  river 
banks  were  full  of  fragrance,  and  the  leafless 
trees,  of  life.  The  wheat  was  green  in  the 
brown  fields,  there  were  cheery  calls  of  bird 
to  bird  from  bud-laden  boughs,  and  afar  the 
partridge  drummed  and  the  quail  whistled. 
In  the  garden  the  tulips  were  thrusting  their 
bell-shaped  heads  above  the  black  mould,  and 
Craddock  and  Teach  were  planting  seeds  and 
pruning  vines. 

It  was  an  April  morning  to  make  the  heart 
glad,  if  the  heart  was  in  the  mood.  Miss 
Allen's  heart  was  not,  but  since  Polly  Win- 
throp  had  arrived,  and  declared  that  remain 
ing  indoors  was  out  of  the  question,  they  had 
both  come  to  see  how  Teach  and  Craddock 
were  progressing.  They  sauntered  down  the 
walk ;  and  as  the  walk  was  not  wide  and  their 
hoops  were  not  small,  their  striped  petticoats 
brushed  the  budding  bushes.  Miss  Allen 
wore  a  large  gray  silk  calash,  with  the  rib 
bons  tied  under  her  chin,  while  Miss  Win- 

314 


Mr.  Keayne  Allen  pays  his  Debt 

throp  held  the  strings  of  her  black  bonnet  in 
her  hand,  and  swung  it  playfully.  The  soft 
air  of  the  garden,  the  songs  of  the  brown 
thrasher  and  the  chewink,  and  the  delicious 
sod  proved  too  much  for  them  both,  and  de 
spite  their  finery  they  began  to  plant  seeds 
themselves.  Then,  when  Craddock  picked 
up  his  pails  and  set  out  for  the  pasture,  Polly 
proposed  that  they  should  go  to  see  the  milk 
ing.  Betty  acquiesced  in  a  half-hearted  way, 
and  they  wandered  down  to  the  fresh  meadow. 
Craddock  was  calling,  "  Co',  boss ! "  and  the 
six  Virginia  cows  were  looking  at  Whitefoot 
to  see  what  she  would  do.  For  among  kine 
there  is  always  one  that  impresses  her  per 
sonality,  wins  supremacy  with  her  horns,  and 
rules ;  and  in  her  meadow  domain  Whitefoot 
was  an  autocrat  in  her  way.  When  she 
started,  the  others  followed. 

"  How  pretty  they  look !  "  exclaimed  Polly. 
"  The  dear  old  things !  " 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  said  Betty.  "  They're 
all  very  well,  but  I  much  prefer  horses." 

"  Betty  Allen,  whatever  is  the  matter  ?  It's 
such  a  lovely  morning.  It  makes  me  so  en 
thusiastic,  and  you  don't  take  an  interest  in 
anything." 

"  Of  course  I  do,  dear,"  said  Betty.  "  How 
foolish  you  are  !  But  now  that  I've  come  this 
far  to  humor  you,  let's  turn  back.  I  really 
don't  care  to  see  the  milking." 

3*5 


Brinton  Eliot 

When  they  came  up  to  the  house  they  saw 
Duncannon,  saddled  and  bridled,  with  Shay- 
ler  at  his  head,  and  on  the  steps  Mr.  Keayne 
Allen,  booted  and  spurred.  Mr.  Allen  looked 
closely  at  his  daughter,  and  then  turned  to 
Miss  Winthrop. 

"  Polly,"  said  he,  "  will  you  excuse  us  for  a 
moment  ?  I  want  to  have  a  word  with  Betty 
before  I  go  to  town." 

"  Of  course,  Mr.  Allen." 

Betty  followed  her  father  into  the  library, 
where  he  threw  his  hat  on  a  chair,  and  closed 
the  door. 

"  My  dear,"  said  he,  "  it  is  asking  too  much 
of  you ;  it  is,  indeed.  To  see  you  so  wretched 
day  after  day  has  made  me  wretched,  too. 
Now,  do  as  you  please  about  Edward.  I 
had  better  sacrifice  anything  I  have  than  sac 
rifice  you.  You  see,  Betty —  I'm  a  Whig." 

"Father!" 

She  ran  to  him,  flung  her  arms  about  his 
neck,  and  kissed  him  on  both  cheeks. 

"  Yes,  dear,"  he  continued,  "  I've  been  some 
time  in  getting  there,  but  I'm  there  at  last. 
I'm  done  with  Tories  and  Toryism.  I'm  a 
Whig.  And  the  Whig  doctrine,  I  take  it,  is 
sacrifice,  —  sacrifice  of  self  and  worldly  goods 
for  those  one  loves,  for  country,  for  better 
things." 

"I'm  sure  of  it,  father.  But  —  but  what 
will  mother  say  ?  " 

316 


Mr.   Keayne  Allen  pays  his  Debt 

"  I  don't  know,  Betty,  exactly  what  she  will 
say.  I  suppose  she'll  say  the  Whigs  have 
very  little  social  position  here." 

"  Father,  there  is  something  finer  than 
social  position.  There  is  the  honor  of  the 
Aliens." 

"  Yes.     You're  quite  right." 

He  kissed  his  daughter  and  went  out  into 
the  hall,  where  Bradford  met  him  and  handed 
him  two  letters,  which  had  come  by  the  last 
post.  Mr.  Allen  had  his  gloves  on  and  was 
in  a  hurry,  and  he  ripped  open  one  of  the 
letters  so  hastily  and  awkwardly  that  a  slip 
of  paper  fell  on  the  floor.  Bradford  picked 
it  up  and  presented  it,  but  having  eyes  in  his 
head,  he  noticed  that  it  was  an  order  on  Van 
Vleck  &  Tryon  for  ,£10,000.  Then,  like  a 
well-bred  servant,  he  bowed  and  went  away, 
while  Mr.  Allen,  puzzled  apparently,  read  the 
letter  slowly,  looked  at  the  order,  turned  on 
his  heel  with  an  exclamation,  and  started  for 
the  library ;  gave  the  matter  a  second  thought, 
glanced  at  the  letter  again,  whirled  about,  and 
walking  rapidly  out  of  the  house,  jumped  on 
his  horse,  and  set  out  for  Philadelphia. 

Miss  Winthrop  found  Miss  Allen  in  better 
spirits ;  so  much  so,  in  fact,  that  Betty  herself 
proposed  a  ride  in  the  afternoon,  and  agreed 
to  take  supper  with  the  Winthrops  and  remain 
until  the  following  day,  if  her  father  gave  con 
sent;  for  Mrs.  Keayne  Allen,  who  was  one 


Brinton  Eliot 

of  the  committee  of  arrangements  for  the 
coming  Mischianza,  was  busy  at  the  Bonds' 
about  that. 

Meanwhile,  a  gray  coach,  drawn  by  two  bay 
horses,  had  set  out  for  Westwood.  The  coach 
contained  Judge  Shippen;  a  pocket  in  the 
judge's  waistcoat  contained  a  letter  from  his 
son;  and  the  judge  himself  contained  a  tem 
per.  On  reading  that  letter,  Judge  Shippen 
had  fumed  in  the  fashion  of  a  Britannic  Maj 
esty  whose  dutiful  subjects  have  tossed  his 
tea  into  the  harbor.  This,  then,  was  the  end 
of  apotheosis.  It  was  evident  that  parental 
authority  was  in  a  bad  way.  More  than  once 
he  had  given  Keayne  Allen  his  version  of  the 
duties  of  children  to  parents,  and  now,  in  his 
own  family  —  a  family  which  had  been  from 
the  beginning  —  parental  authority  had  come 
tumbling  about  his  ears  like  a  house  of  cards, 
and  apotheosis  had  sputtered  and  gone  up  in 
smoke.  To  gain  the  esteem  of  Keayne  Allen's 
daughter,  Edward  Shippen  had  flung  to  the 
winds  of  heaven  family  traditions  which  had 
stood  foursquare  since  the  great  first  Edward. 
Judge  Shippen  was  naturally  much  vexed  with 
Miss  Allen. 

"  This  is  a  good  place,"  said  he,  glancing 
about  as  his  carriage  approached  the  house ; 
"  but  the  time  for  fooling  has  passed.  Keayne 
Allen  must  sell  it." 

The  judge  was  shown  into  the  library,  and 

318 


Mr.   Keayne  Allen  pays  his   Debt 

informed  that  Mr.  Allen  would  probably  re 
turn  shortly.  Since  he  had  had  a  fair  drive, 
Judge  Shippen  decided  to  wait  for  a  time,  and 
while  waiting  found  himself  looking  at  ma 
hogany  bookcases,  portraits,  and  tapestry,  and 
making  a  mental  inventory.  Then  Betty 
came  in,  clad  in  a  Joseph  and  carrying  a  whip 
and  a  white  silk  riding-mask.  She  was  evi 
dently  surprised,  but  giving  him  the  proper 
courtesy,  said  simply,  "  Good  afternoon,  sir." 

Judge  Shippen  bowed  in  his  usual  fashion, 
and  answered,  somewhat  stiffly,  "  Good  after 
noon,  Miss  Allen." 

"  Are  you  waiting  for  father  ?  " 

"  I  am." 

There  was  an  awkward  pause.  Miss  Allen 
broke  it. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  she,  "  you've  come  for  my 
answer  in  regard  to  your  son  ?  " 

u  He's  no  son  of  mine ! "  said  the  judge, 
wrathfully.  "  I  disown  him  !  " 

"  Pray,  what  has  he  done,  sir?  " 

"  What  has  he  done  ?  The  young  fool's 
turned  Whig.  That's  what  he's  done  !  He's 
joined  Washington's  army.  And  you  are 
the  cause  of  it !  " 

"  I  wish  you  wrould  explain  what  you 
mean,  sir." 

Out  of  the  embroidered  pocket  of  his  silk 
waistcoat  the  judge  jerked  a  letter,  and  with  it 
his  gold  snuff-box,  which  flew  across  the  table. 
3*9 


Brinton  Eliot 

"There!"  said  he.  "Read  that!  Ton 
my  life,  a  most  monstrous  letter  from  a  Ship- 
pen  !" 

Betty  read  Edward's  letter  slowly,  and  at 
the  words,  "  'Tis  my  Hope  that  she  may 
regard  me  with  more  Esteem  &  Favour  than 
she  has  done  hitherto,"  she  said,  softly, 
"  Poor  fellow !  I'm  truly  sorry."  The  judge 
did  not  hear  her,  for  he  was  picking  up  his 
snuff-box. 

"  Judge  Shippen,"  said  she,  handing  him 
the  letter,  "  your  son  is  a  very  worthy  man, 
and  'tis  amazing  you  don't  esteem  him  as  you 
ought." 

"What!  You  read  me  a  lecture?  Ton 
my  life,  you're  as  impudent  as  Edward ! " 

"  Judge  Shippen,  you're  monstrous  impo 
lite.  I  think  this  interview  had  better  end." 

"  Do  you  ?  I  don't !  I  have  assisted 
Keayne  Allen.  This  is  my  reward !  You 
set  my  son  against  me.  You  have  the  im 
pudence  to  tell  me  my  duty  as  a  father. 
When  I  reprove  you,  your  insubordination 
flouts  my  manners.  You've  been  badly 
brought  up.  This  is  the  coming  generation, 
independent  and  disobedient,  too  stiff-necked 
to  take  the  wisdom  of  their  betters.  The 
plague  is  rampant  in  these  colonies,  and  is 
the  cause  of  this  war." 

Miss  Allen  had  never  been  talked  to  in 
such  fashion. 

320 


Mr.   Keayne  Allen  pays  his  Debt 

"Indeed,  sir,"  said  she,  coldly,  "all  that 
you  say  but  confirms  my  opinion  of  your 
manners.  I  bid  you  good  afternoon." 

Things  were  not  well  with  the  apotheosis. 

"  Stop  !  "  said  the  judge,  tartly.  "  No  airs, 
miss !  The  time  for  fooling  has  passed.  I 
want  to  say  now  —  " 

But  Judge  Shippen  did  not  finish  his  sen 
tence,  for  at  that  moment  Mr.  Keayne  Allen 
came  in. 

"  Od's  life  !  "  said  he,  pleasantly.  "  I  missed 
you  in  town,  and  here  you  are." 

"  Yes,  here  I  am,  Keayne  Allen,  enduring 
the  impudence  of  your  daughter.  The  minx 
sets  my  son  against  me,  and  flouts  me  to  my 
face." 

"Indeed?"  said  Mr.  Allen,  briskly.  "I 
trust  you  will  spare  Betty  any  further  discus 
sion  of  an  affair  which  no  longer  concerns 
her.  You  and  I  have  a  business  matter  to 
settle." 

"  We  have,"  said  the  judge  with  emphasis. 
"  Don't  attempt  to  ride  a  high  horse  with 
me,  Keayne  Allen." 

Mr.  Allen  was  provoked  but,  keeping  his 
temper  in  hand,  said  rather  sharply,  "  If  you 
have  those  notes,  I'll  pay  you  at  once." 

Judge  Shippen  was  surprised,  and  so  was 
Miss  Allen. 

"  Here  is  an  order  on  Willing  &  Morris, 
which  I  have  drawn  in  your  favor  for  the 
Y  321 


Brinton  Eliot 

amount,"  continued  Mr.  Allen.  "  Be  good 
enough  to  hand  me  my  notes." 

The  judge  fumbled  in  the  left  pocket  of 
his  silk  waistcoat 

"  Keayne,"  said  he,  "  I  must  say  —  " 

"  Pray  don't  say  it.  Hand  me  my  notes 
and  give  me  the  privilege  of  wishing  you 
good  afternoon." 

It  was  clear  that  Judge  Shippen  had  not 
anticipated  this  sort  of  thing  when  he  came 
to  Westwood.  Much  as  he  desired  to  secure 
the  sum  due  him,  it  would  have  gratified  him 
not  a  little,  at  the  moment,  to  have  humbled 
Keayne  Allen  and  humiliated  Miss  Allen; 
and,  though  he  was  by  no  means  an  ex 
travagant  man,  he  would  have  given  half  of 
,£10,000  to  have  accomplished  that,  then  and 
there,  and  so  propped  up  the  apotheosis. 
It  must  be  confessed  that  he  handed  over 
the  notes  and  pocketed  the  order  with  not 
the  best  grace  in  the  world. 

"  My  dear  Keayne,"  said  he,  "  I  must 
say  —  " 

But  Mr.  Allen  crossed  the  room  and  pulled 
the  bell-cord,  and  in  a  moment  Bradford,  in 
his  blue  livery,  stood  at  the  door. 

"  Bradford,"  said  Mr.  Allen,  "  Judge  Ship- 
pen's  carriage."  Then  turning  to  the  judge, 
he  added  civilly,  but  with  emphasis,  "  Good 
afternoon,  sir." 

Bradford  was  holding  the  hall  door  open, 
322 


Mr.   Keayne  Allen  pays  his  Debt 

and  the  judge  went  out  to  his  coach.  In 
what  temper?  If  Edward  had  flung  family 
traditions  to  the  winds,  his  father  flung  judi 
cial  calm.  It  was  the  final  sputter  of  the 
apotheosis. 

"  Father,"  said  Betty,  slowly,  "  you  did  not 
tell  me  this  morning  that  you  could  pay  the 
judge." 

"  I  didn't  know,  then,  that  I  could,  Betty." 

"  What  have  you  sacrificed  ?  " 

"  Not  very  much  as  yet.  I  was  ready,  but 
Providence  has  managed  it  another  way." 

"What  way?" 

"  I  can't  very  wrell  explain  now,  my  dear. 
I've  sold  some  property,  but  not  at  a  sacri 
fice.  Od's  life  !  In  fact  I  consider  the  sale 
simply  a  loan  —  a  loan  from  a  friend." 

"  Who  is  the  friend  ?  " 

"  The  friend  desires  to  remain  unknown, 
and  to  gratify  that  wish  is  the  least  I  can  do. 
Don't  you  think  so  ? " 

"  I  suppose  so.  It  is  hard  not  to  know. 
It  must  be  a  friend  who  thinks  everything 
of  you." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Mr. 
Allen,  laughing. 

"Why,  father!"  exclaimed  Betty,  some 
what  shocked.  "  How  can  you  doubt  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  my  dear.  You  are  quite  right. 
The  friend  thinks  everything  of  me.  Were 
you  going  to  ride  ?  " 

323 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  Polly  wants  me  to  take  supper  and  stay 
until  to-morrow,  if  you  don't  mind." 

"  Yes,  go.     Of  course." 

She  put  her  arms  about  his  neck  and 
kissed  him  twice. 

"  Father,"  said  she,  "  I'm  so  happy  !  " 

"  You  don't  want  me  to  pick  out  another 
husband  for  you,  do  you  ?  " 

"  No,  thank  you  !  "  replied  Betty,  laughing. 
"  No  indeed  !  " 

"  Then  I  won't.     Good-by." 

For  some  minutes  Mr.  Allen  stood  quite 
still,  absorbed  in  thought,  and  then,  drawing 
a  letter  from  his  pocket,  he  looked  at  it  and, 
turning  it  over,  looked  at  it  again.  At  the 
noise  of  the  horses'  hoofs,  he  walked  to 
the  window,  and  stood,  watching  Betty,  as 
the  girls  galloped  down  the  drive. 

"She's  all  I  have,"  said  he.  "  If  she  were 
willing  to  let  me  pick  out  another  husband 
for  her,  I  think — egad!  He  put  it  nicely: 
' 1  want  to  buy  Duncannon.  I  know  you 
value  him  highly,  but  I  think  a  great  deal  of 
that  horse,  because,  you  see,  I  rode  him  when 
the  Marquis  ran  away  with  Betty,  and  with 
out  Duncannon  .  .  .  Please  give  me  the 
horse,  and  let  me  name  my  own  price.'  And 
then  that  order  on  Van  Vleck  &  Tryon ! 
That's  Whig  blood  !  But  I  wonder,"  he  added, 
folding  Brinton's  letter  slowly,  "  whether  my 
friend  thinks  everything  of  me? 
324 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

IN    WHICH    PIERT    JANS    GOES    A-FISHING 

AT  the  Forge  in  the  valley  the  work  con 
tinued,  and  April  passed,  and  May  came,  and 
the  green  of  May,  fresh  on  the  banks  of  the 
Schuylkill. 

Some  three  miles  from  the  Forge,  with  its 
gable-end  to  the  road  and  its  long  side  toward 
the  southern  sunshine,  stood  the  farmhouse 
of  Piert  Jans.  Its  kamer  was  cleanly  sanded, 
and  in  the  kametje  behind  the  milk-room 
Jans's/r##  worked  the  spinning-wheel  indus 
triously.  She  was  an  honest  soul,  taking  an 
interest  in  the  men  at  the  Forge,  and  sending 
them  frequently  eggs  and  milk. 

On  the  evening  of  the  4th  of  May,  Jans 
and  Hybert  Weamans  were  seated  near  the 
trap-door  of  the  cellar,  smoking,  drinking 
beer,  and  eating  puffards  from  the  puffet- 
pan.  Jans  was  contented.  His  contentment, 
however,  was  to  be  of  short  duration.  He 
saw  Daniel  McTuyn  approaching.  Mc- 
Tuyn's  farm  adjoined,  and  McTuyn  had  a 
way  of  saying  direct  things. 

"  How  you  vhas? "  said  Jans,  removing  his 
pipe  from  his  mouth. 

325 


Brinton  Eliot 

"Sure,  'tis  God's  truth,  Piert  Jans,"  re 
marked  McTuyn,  "  thot  ye  do  eat  an'  drink 
moore  thon  anny  wan  man  in  Pinnsylvany." 

"  So  ?  "  said  Jans. 

"  'Tis  so  thruly.  Howiver,  as  th'  priest  says 
at  confissional,  what's  outside  is  not  inside. 
I  wud  be  sayin'  th'  same  iv  thim  puffards." 

"  Dere  dey  vhas,"  said  Jans,  with  a  gen 
erous  wave  of  his  hand. 

McTuyn  helped  himself  and  sat  down. 

"  Hev  ye  been  t'  th'  Foorge,  Jans  ?  Ye 
hev  not.  Well,  'tis  small  pathreetism  ye  hev. 
Yer  olj  woman  hes  moore.  Faith !  ye  shud 
hev  seen  th'  gran'  p'rade  th'  day  th'  Dutch 
Barren  come.  '  Foors  be  foors  on  th'  lef 
flank  !  March  ! '  says  th'  barron,  an'  ivvry 
sojer  fell  over  'is  bay'net.  Th'  barron  give 
out  tumulchuse  lanwidge.  He  talked  Frinch. 
There  was  need.  Howiver,  'tis  all  right  now. 
Go  down  now  an'  see  thim  marchin'  on  th' 
p'rade,  cuttin'  circles  an'  th'  figger  eight,  an' 
niver  a  sojer  iv  thim  gettin'  mixed  wid  'is 
feet.  'Tis  good  fur  pathreetism." 

At  that  moment  a  horseman  passed  the 
farmhouse  at  full  gallop.  "  Hooray !  "  he 
shouted,  waving  his  arm.  "  Hooray !  " 

"  Hooray  yersilf !  "  cried  McTuyn. 

"Potzausend !"  exclaimed  Jans. 

"  He    go    augenblick,    I    dink,"    remarked 
Weamans,  as   the  rider  disappeared  in  the 
direction  of  the  Forge. 
326 


In  which  Piert  Jans  goes  a-Fishing 

On  the  following  morning  Jans  and  Wea- 
mans  went  a-fishing,  and  by  nine  o'clock 
their  small  boat  was  drifting  slowly  down  the 
river.  From  where  he  sat,  Jans,  whose  eyes 
were  fixed  on  his  bobbing  line,  could  have 
seen,  had  he  looked  in  the  right  direction, 
the  top  of  the  flag-pole  on  the  parade-ground, 
and  the  Stars  and  Stripes.  Weamans's  line 
was  jerked  sharply.  "You  haf  somedings," 
remarked  Jans.  Suddenly  over  the  green 
hill  and  river  from  a  chorus  of  more  than 
ten  thousand  voices  sounded  the  doxology : — 

"  Praise  God  from  Whom  all  blessings  flow  ! 
Praise  Him,  all  creatures  here  below  ! 
Praise  Him  above,  ye  heavenly  host ! 
Praise  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost ! " 

Then  followed  three  loud  huzzas  for  Gen 
eral  Washington,  three  for  the  King  of 
France,  and  nine  for  the  United  States,  and, 
immediately  after,  a  tremendous  discharge 
of  firearms. 

"  Donnerwetter  !  "  cried  Weamans,  with  a 
start  that  shook  the  small  boat. 

"  Gottstausend  !  "  exclaimed  Jans.  "  Dey 
vhas  glat  apout  somedings,  I  dink."  He  was 
right.  They  certainly  were. 


327 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

IN    WHICH    OLD    FRIENDS    MEET    AGAIN 

SOME  twelve  days  after  Piert  Jans  and 
Hybert  Weamans,  on  their  memorable  fish 
ing  excursion,  heard  the  thunders  that  an 
nounced  the  French  Alliance,  Walnut  Grove 
in  Philadelphia  was  filled  with  the  marvels 
of  the  Mischianza.  Knights  of  the  Blended 
Rose  broke  lances  with  knights  of  the  Burn 
ing  Mountain  in  honor  of  Sir  William  Howe. 
"  His  laurels,"  so  sang  the  triumphal  arch, 
"are  immortal."  The  triumphal  arch  was 
soon  out  of  tune.  Exit  Sir  William  Howe 
with  a  shipload  of  "  immortal  laurels  " ;  en 
ter  Sir  Henry  Clinton.  But  as  the  formida 
ble  French  fleet  of  the  Comte  d'Estaing  was 
sweeping  with  all  sails  set  toward  the  Dela 
ware,  exit  on  the  morning  of  the  i8th  of 
June,  Sir  Henry  Clinton ;  enter  in  the  even 
ing,  General  Benedict  Arnold  and  the  Ameri 
can  advance-guard. 

It  was  natural  then  that  good  Whigs  who 

had  been  not  a  little  upset  by  the  Mischianza, 

from  the  ball-room  of  which,  hung  with  pink 

silk  and  forty  mirrors,  they  had  been  unable 

328 


In  which  Old  Friends  meet  Again 

to  keep  their  daughters  away,  should  rejoice 
that  the  last  of  the  season's  dancing  assem 
blies  came  two  days  after  General  Arnold's 
arrival,  nor  was  it  surprising  that  they  turned 
out  in  full  force  to  welcome  the  new  com 
mander  of  the  city  whose  past  had  been  as 
brilliant  as  his  future  was  to  be  base. 

The  long  ball-room  and  the  card-rooms  of 
the  City  Tavern  were  as  brilliantly  illumi 
nated  and  as  crowded  as  ever  they  were  in 
the  heyday  of  Howe.  The  Chews,  the  Ship- 
pens,  the  Aliens,  the  Winthrops,  the  Cadwala- 
ders,  the  Franks,  the  Auchmutys,  the  Bonds, 
the  Redmans,  the  Pembertons,  and  scores  of 
others,  were  on  hand ;  for  did  not  the  fiddles 
play  the  music  of  a  minuet  or  contra-dance  as 
merrily  for  a  Whig  as  for  a  Tory?  Mrs. 
Keayne  Allen,  in  a  large  pannier,  richly  flow 
ered,  her  lofty  powdered  hair  decked  with  dia 
monds,  opened  the  ball  with  General  Arnold 
who  looked  very  well  in  his  blue  uniform 
faced  with  white,  his  glittering  epaulets, 
his  white  waistcoat  and  white  kerseymere 
breeches,  white  silk  stockings  and  pumps, 
and  the  broad  purple  ribbon  of  his  rank 
across  his  breast.  Mrs.  Chauncey  Win- 
throp,  whose  righteous  soul  rejoiced  that  she 
saw  redcoats  no  longer,  was  magnificent  in 
an  enormous  rosetted  petticoat  of  green  and 
silver,  and  wore  her  powdered  hair  in  the 
latest  French  fashion,  adorned  with  waving 
329 


Brinton  Eliot 

plumes.  She  was  pleased,  too,  because  Miss 
Margaret  Winthrop,  who  looked  unusually 
well  in  a  polonaise  of  figured  satin,  was  danc 
ing  with  John  Cadwalader,  Jr.,  and  she  said 
as  much  to  Mrs.  John  Cadwalader.  Arnold 
had  recognized  her  when  she  entered  the 
ball-room,  for  Mrs.  Chauncey  Winthrop  was 
not  the  sort  of  woman  that  one  met  and  for 
got,  and  at  the  end  of  the  first  dance  he 
came  through  the  crowd  to  where  Mrs.  Win 
throp  sat. 

"  Mrs.  Winthrop,"  said  he,  making  her  a 
very  finished  bow,  "  I  have  had  the  pleasure 
of  meeting  you  before." 

"  Lud !  general.  I  remember  it  well,  but  in  the 
meantime,  sir,  you've  become  a  famous  man." 

"  I'm  not  as  famous  as  I  might  be,  Mrs. 
Winthrop,"  said  Arnold,  smiling  somewhat 
grimly;  and  then  seating  himself,  he  added, 
"  I  have  just  met  Mrs.  Keayne  Allen's  daugh 
ter,  who  was  with  you  in  New  Haven.  She 
was  much  younger  then.  What  a  beautiful 
girl  she  is  now !  " 

"  Betty?     Lud  !  Betty's  superb." 

"Ah,  thank  you  for  the  word,  Mrs.  Win 
throp.  She  is  quite  superb." 

"  Tis  amazing  that  she  has  come  through 
the  winter  without  growing  giddy-pated,  for 
Sir  William's  officers  laid  siege  to  Westwood 
with  more  vigor  I'll  warrant  me  than  ever 
they  did  to  a  fortress." 
330 


In  which  Old   Friends  meet  Again 

"You're  a  good  Whig,  Mrs.  Winthrop," 
said  Arnold,  laughing. 

"  And  hope  to  die  one,  sir.  'Tis  monstrous 
likely  you'll  find  plenty  of  women  in  Philadel 
phia  who  will  swear  to  you  they've  been  blue 
Whigs  from  the  beginning,  but  I  know 
they've  had  the  scarlet-fever." 

Arnold  laughed.  "  I. am  going  to  settle  at 
Mt.  Pleasant,  Mrs.  Winthrop,"  he  continued, 
"  and  I  hope  soon  to  give  a  dinner  or  two. 
Will  you  honor  me  ?  " 

"  Ods  !  With  pleasure,  general.  'Twould 
be  amazing  fit  if  you  gave  something  to  cele 
brate  the  French  Alliance." 

"  Madam,   the    French    Alliance    disgusts 


me." 


"  Lud ! " 

"  There  is  the  music  for  the  contra-dance, 
and  I  am  pledged  to  Miss  Allen  for  't.  I 
hope  she  will  not  find  me  an  awkward  part 
ner.  I  limp  still  from  Saratoga,  Mrs.  Win 
throp,  but  I  am  never  too  lame  to  dance." 

Arnold  bowed  and  departed,  and  Mrs. 
Winthrop  turned  to  Mrs.  Shippen. 

"  Peggy's  petticoat  is  most  modish,  Mrs. 
Shippen,"  said  she,  "  and  becomes  her  might 
ily.  Are  those  ribbons  paduasoy  ? " 

"  No.  They're  Dettingen,  Mrs.  Winthrop. 
They  cost  me  sixty  dollars  a  yard.  'Tis 
truly  a  burden  to  shop  now-a-days  if  one 
carries  paper." 

331 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  It  is  indeed.  I  paid  #159  to-day  for  a  yard 
of  silk,  and  six  yards  of  calico  and  six  of  chintz 
cost  me  $1600.  Will  you  believe  that  Polly's 
shoes  cost  me  $950? " 

"  I  quite  believe  it.  'Tis  monstrous  how 
the  paper  falls !  And  coin  is  not  to  be  had." 

"  Lud !  When  I  go  a-shopping  my  purse 
is  puffed  like  a  pannier." 

"  Mrs.  Winthrop,  if  it  suits  you,  let  us  play 
quadrille." 

"  If  it  suits  you,  Mrs.  Shippen,  let  us  play 
at  ombre.  'Tis  my  favorite  game." 

They  started  toward  the  card-room.  "  Ah, 
Mrs.  Pemberton,"  said  Mrs.  Winthrop,  "  come 
now  and  play  ombre." 

"  Peggy  Chew  doesn't  dance  to-night  as 
she  did  a  month  ago,"  said  Mrs.  Shippen. 

"  Pining  for  Andre,  no  doubt,"  said  Mrs. 
Winthrop.  "  To  my  mind  he  was  the  best 
of  'em,  but  scarlet  never  suited  my  com 
plexion." 

As  they  approached  the  card-room,  she 
heard  some  one  say,  "  Aunt  Elizabeth ! " 
and  turning,  saw  at  the  door  of  the  ball 
room,  Brinton  Eliot,  in  his  blue  uniform 
faced  with  buff,  with  buff  waistcoat  and 
breeches  and  black  leggings,  his  sword  by 
his  side,  and  in  his  hand  his  cocked  hat  with 
its  black  and  white  cockade.  Behind  him 
stood  Benjamin  Tallmadge  in  a  uniform  blue 
throughout,  faced  with  white,  with  white  but- 

332 


In  which  Old  Friends  meet  Again 

tons  and  linings,  black  boots  with  spurs,  and 
carrying  his  helmet  with  its  crest  of  black 
and  white  horsehair.  Mrs.  Winthrop  was 
naturally  much  surprised. 

"Lud!  Brinton,"  said  she,  "you're  hand 
somer  than  ever  you  were." 

"  Aunt  Elizabeth,  you  always  flatter.  Here's 
Ben  Tallmadge.  You  surely  have  not  for 
gotten  him  ? " 

"  Indeed,  I  have  not.  Mr.  Tallmadge,  I  am 
delighted  to  see  you." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  Mrs.  Winthrop." 

"  I  suppose  Betty  is  here,  isn't  she  ?  "  said 
Brinton. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Winthrop.  "  I  don't  see 
her  at  the  moment,  but  she's  dancing  with 
General  Arnold.  Lud !  I  must  beg  your 
pardon  for  calling  you  *  Mr.'  What  should 
I  have  said  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I'm  a  captain,"  said  Tallmadge, 
laughing. 

"  Mrs.  Shippen,  Captain  Tallmadge,"  said 
Mrs.  Winthrop. 

"  If  you'll  excuse  me  a  moment,  Aunt  Eliza 
beth,"  said  Brinton,  "  I'll  look  for  Betty." 

Brinton  started.  He  had  to  stop  and  speak 
to  Miss  Auchmuty,  and  again  to  Miss  Bond. 
They  both  seemed  to  have  much  to  say,  and 
he  did  not,  but  he  did  his  best  to  be  polite. 
The  ball-room  was  crowded,  and  the  contra- 
dance  still  in  progress,  but  there  was  no  sign 
333 


Brinton  Eliot 

of  Betty.  Brinton  tried  the  card-rooms ;  one 
had  eight  tables  and  the  other  six.  Passing 
through  the  first  without  seeing  a  familiar 
face,  he  looked  into  the  second.  In  that  there 
were  possibly  a  dozen  people,  and  among  them 
Mrs.  Winthrop,  Mrs.  Shippen,  and  Mrs.  Pem- 
berton.  At  his  left  a  white  and  gold  screen 
kept  the  draught  from  the  nearest  table,  and 
as  he  stood  in  the  doorway,  Brinton  heard  a 
voice  close  to  him  say,  "  Believe  me,  Miss 
Allen,  I  adore  you."  It  was  Arnold.  Brinton 
walked  promptly  round  the  screen.  On  the 
white  window-seat  sat  Betty  and  the  general. 

"  Brinton  Eliot !  " 

She  flushed  in  a  charming  way  as  she  rose 
and  gave  him  her  hand. 

"  Betty,  I've  been  looking  for  you  every 
where.  Good  evening,  general." 

"  Good  evening." 

"  May  I  have  the  next  dance,  Betty  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

General  Arnold  rose  at  once. 

"Good-by,  general,"  said  Betty.  "You 
danced  beautifully.  I  don't  think  you  limped 
at  all." 

"  It's  au  revoir,  Miss  Allen.  You're  com 
ing  to  Mt.  Pleasant,  I  hope." 

"  Thank  you.     'Twill  be  amazing  nice." 

Arnold  went  into  the  other  card-room,  and 
Betty  and  Brinton  sat  down  on  the  window- 
seat.  Her  brown  hair  was  heavily  powdered 
334 


In  which  Old  Friends  meet  Again 

and  dressed  high  in  the  coiffure  a  la  dau- 
phine,  her  petticoat  was  embroidered  with 
flowers  in  their  natural  colors,  and  her  small 
white  red-heeled  shoes,  with  their  gold  em 
broidery,  were  works  of  art,  for  in  those  days 
shoemakers  achieved  wonders. 

"  Brinton,  we  were  so  glad  to  hear  that  you 
were  in  America  again.  Father  told  us.  I 
don't  know  how  he  found  out." 

"  Didn't  you  get  my  letter  from  Ports 
mouth  ?  " 

"  Why,  Brinton !  Did  you  write  from 
Portsmouth  ? " 

"  Of  course." 

"  Letters  are  amazing  uncertain  now.  How 
did  you  find  me  ?  " 

"  I  was  hunting  you  everywhere.  Aunt 
Elizabeth  said  you  had  been  dancing  wTith 
General  Arnold.  When  I  looked  in  here  I 
heard  him  say  that  he  adored  you." 

"  Oh !  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Brinton,  he  is  the  twelfth  man  who  has 
said  the  same  thing  in  six  months." 

"  Is  he  ?  Becky  Bond  did  nothing  but  talk 
about  the  Mischianza.  I  suppose  it  was  very 
fine." 

"  They  all  say  so.     I  didn't  go." 

"  You  didn't !     All  the  girls  went." 

"  Indeed  they  did.  It's  well  enough  to  dance 
with  the  British,  I  suppose.  When  they're 
335 


Brinton  Eliot 

here  one  can't  exactly  help  it.  But  when  it 
comes  to  going  to  an  entertainment  prepared 
especially  to  glorify  Sir  William  Howe,  I  draw 
the  line.  You  should  have  heard  Major 
Andre  and  Colonel  DeLancey  talk.  They 
thought  it  was  frightful.  And  mother  — 
well,  mother,  you  know,  is  much  more  Tory 
than  Whig.  She  went.  She  said  I  should 
go.  I  said  I  wouldn't,  and  I  didn't.  It's  not 
pleasant  to  talk  about." 

"  I  think  it's  grand  !  " 

"  There's  nothing  grand  about  it.  I  don't 
think  any  Whig  should  have  gone.  Do  you  ? " 

"  No.  However,  I'll  wager  that  most  of 
them  did  go." 

"I  think  I'm  the  only  Whig  girl  that 
didn't.  Polly  went.  Mrs.  Winthrop  was 
crazy,  but  so  was  Polly.  Mrs.  Winthrop 
does  want  Polly  to  have  a  good  time,  and 
so  she  gave  in." 

"  She  didn't  go  herself,  did  she  ?  " 

"Of  course  not.  I  think  she's  the  best 
Whig  in  Philadelphia." 

"  She's  a  Whig  all  right  enough." 

"  Oh,  Brinton,  father's  a  Whig  now !  " 

"  I'm  glad  of  that,  Betty.  It  must  make 
things  easier  for  you.  Betty,  Edward  Ship- 
pen  was  over  at  Valley  Forge,  and  he's 
turned  Whig,  too.  I  suppose  that  will  make 
trouble  in  his  family." 

"  It  has  already,  Brinton.  I'm  sorry  for 
336 


In  which  Old  Friends  meet  Again 

Edward.  I'm  afraid  I  haven't  treated  him 
very  well." 

"  Perhaps  that  was  his  father's  fault." 

"  Why,  Brinton  !  What  do  you  know  about 
his  father?" 

Brinton  saw  that  he  had  said  too  much. 

"  Well,  his  father  is  peculiar,  and  I  suppose 
Edward  imagined  that  you  thought  he  was 
like  his  father." 

This  was  not  very  satisfactory. 

"  Perhaps  I  did,"  said  Betty,  slowly. 

"  We're  going  early  in  the  morning,"  con 
tinued  Brinton.  "  Ben  Tallmadge  is  here. 
He  came  with  me  from  the  Forge.  The 
army  is  marching  to  New  Jersey.  There 
will  probably  be  a  battle  in  a  few  days." 

"  Brinton  ! " 

Her  tone  and  her  expression  made  Brinton 
start. 

"Why,  Betty,"  said  he,  "that's  what  an 
army  is  for,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  Brinton.  I  don't  know  why  I 
said  that.  Brinton,  do  you  remember  the 
last  time  you  came  to  Westwood  ? " 

«  Yes,  Betty." 

"  I  was  at  Cliveden,  you  know,  and  I've 
wondered  if  —  " 

Just  then  Polly  Winthrop  and  Ben  Tall 
madge  came.  Polly  pounced  on  Brinton  joy 
fully,  and  when  Ben  began  to  talk,  all  four 
were  soon  living  over  again  those  bright  days 
z  337 


Brinton  Eliot 

in  New  Haven.  Such  memories  brought  to 
them  all  the  strong,  sweet  face  of  Nathan 
Hale;  once  Brinton  checked  himself  just 
in  time,  and  fortunately  did  not  pronounce 
that  name,  or  Polly  Winthrop  would  have 
begun  to  cry.  But  to  talk  of  Yale  without 
mentioning  Nathan  was  very  difficult  for  both 
Ben  and  Brinton.  They  could  hardly  have 
kept  it  up  long;  and  Polly  would  probably 
have  been  in  tears,  had  not  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Keayne  Allen  appeared.  Betty  thought  her 
father  greeted  Brinton  with  remarkable  cor 
diality,  and  she  thought  also  that  her  mother 
was  extremely  cool. 

When  Mrs.  Allen  announced  that  it  was 
time  to  go  to  Westwood,  Brinton  walked  up 
to  Betty  and  took  her  hand. 

"Good-by,  Betty,"  said  he.  "God  keep 
you ! " 

"  God  keep  you,  Brinton  !     Good-by." 

It  seemed  a  simple  affair  in  a  crowded  card- 
room,  but  it  might  be  good-by  for  the  last 
time. 


338 


CHAPTER   XXV 

IN     WHICH     MRS.     KEAYNE     ALLEN    HAS     OTHER 
IDEAS 

DURING  the  next  fortnight  General  Arnold 
rode  more  than  once  to  Westwood.  He  gave 
also  two  splendid  dinners  at  Mt.  Pleasant, 
which  were  by  no  means  Whig  affairs.  It 
was  evident  that  he  was  infatuated  with  Miss 
Allen,  and  on  the  evening  of  the  second  din 
ner,  while  her  hair-dresser  was  arranging  her 
coiffure,  Mrs.  Keayne  Allen  gave  the  matter 
very  serious  consideration.  To  be  sure,  the 
general  was  a  widower  with  three  sons,  but, 
on  the  other  hand,  he  had  a  splendid  military 
reputation,  high  rank  in  the  army,  was  the  com 
mander  of  Philadelphia,  and  the  owner  of  a 
beautiful  place.  He  was  reputed  rich  ;  at  any 
rate  he  entertained  lavishly,  and  one  met  at 
Mt.  Pleasant  everybody  who  \vas  anybody. 
By  the  time  J.  Black  had  arranged  the  last 
jewel  in  her  coiffure,  Mrs.  Keayne  Allen  had 
decided  that  General  Arnold  would  do.  That 
evening  she  surveyed  Mt.  Pleasant  somewhat 
critically,  and  planned  mentally  one  or  two 
alterations  which  she  intended  to  suggest 
when  Betty  was  installed  there. 
339 


Brinton  Eliot 

Things  went  on  in  this  fashion  for  another 
fortnight,  and  then  Mrs.  Keayne  Allen  awoke 
to  realize  the  unpleasant  fact  that,  owing  to 
the  indifferent  way  in  which  her  daughter 
treated  the  general,  the  star  of  Miss  Marga 
ret  Shippen  had  appeared  upon  the  horizon, 
and  that  there  was  a  possibility  of  Mrs.  Ship- 
pen's  suggesting  alterations  at  Mt.  Pleasant. 
Mrs.  Allen  felt  that  the  time  had  come  for 
decisive  action. 

The  next  morning,  when  she  heard  Betty 
in  the  music-room,  she  took  her  needlework, 
and  in  her  laced  and  ruffled  negligee,  hoop, 
and  train,  sailed  in  and  sat  down.  Betty, 
who  was  at  the  harpsichord,  looked  over  her 
shoulder,  and  said,  "  Good  morning,  mother." 

"  Good  morning,  dear." 

Betty  continued  her  music,  and  Mrs.  Allen 
drew  the  gold  threads  through  her  embroidery. 
Mrs.  Allen  had  been  greatly  relieved  at  the 
ending  of  the  Shippen  affair.  She  did  not  as 
a  rule  ask  her  husband  questions  about  busi 
ness,  but  when  Mr.  Allen  had  informed  her 
that  the  debt  to  Judge  Shippen  was  paid, 
she  had  been  anxious  to  know  how  he  had 
managed  the  matter.  "  Lucy,"  Mr.  Allen  had 
answered,  "  don't  worry  now.  Everything  is 
arranged,  and  Edward  is  out  of  the  ques 
tion."  This  was  not  definite,  but  certainly 
satisfactory.  On  the  other  hand,  her  failure 
with  the  Earl  of  Harborough  had  annoyed 
340 


Mrs.   Keayne  Allen  has  Other  Ideas 

Mrs.  Allen  not  a  little.  Other  mothers  mar 
ried  their  daughters  well,  and  why  should 
not  she?  And  when  she  reflected  that  the 
Harborough  affair  had  failed  through  no  fault 
of  hers,  she  felt  that  she  was  a  person  very 
ill-used.  Since  fortune,  however,  was  kind 
enough  to  present  a  second  desirable  son-in- 
law,  it  was  high  time  for  Betty  to  listen  to 
reason.  Neglect  to  listen  at  the  present  mo 
ment  might  mean  a  triumph  for  Mrs.  Shippen  ; 
from  which  may  the  gods  defend ! 

"  Betty,"  said  Mrs.  Allen,  "don't  you  think 
General  Arnold's  dinner  last  night  was  de 
lightful  ? " 

"  Amazing  nice." 

"  He's  certainly  a  charming  man." 

"  Quite  so." 

"  And  a  very  distinguished  man." 

"  Oh,  without  doubt !  " 

"  I  think,  dear,  the  time  has  come  at  last 
when  you  ought  to  be  married  and  settled." 

"  Do  you  think  so,  mother?  " 

"  I  have  given  the  matter  very  serious  con 
sideration.  A  false  step  would  be  fatal." 

"  Certainly." 

"  General  Arnold  is  in  love  with  you." 

"  He  thinks  he  is." 

"  He  is,  Betty." 

"  Very  well,  then.     He  is." 

"  I  think  General  Arnold  is  the  man  for 
you." 

341 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  I  do  not." 

Mrs.  Allen  sighed  as  she  recalled  the  Earl 
of  Harborough  and  the  Mischianza.  Betty 
continued  her  music,  and  for  a  few  moments 
nothing  more  was  said. 

"  Betty,"  Mrs.  Allen  remarked  finally,  with 
some  emphasis,  "  if  you  don't  marry  General 
Arnold,  Peggy  Shippen  will." 

"  I  hope  Peggy'll  be  happy." 

"  But,  Betty  —  " 

"  General  Arnold  is  nothing  to  me." 

"  Well,  he's  a  great  deal  to  me." 

"You  can't  marry  him,  dear." 

"  Betty  Allen !  He's  nothing  to  me  except 
as  a  son-in-law." 

"  Oh ! " 

There  was  another  interval  of  music  and 
embroidery.  Mrs.  Allen  was  much  vexed 
or  she  would  never  have  continued  as  she 
did. 

"  Betty,"  said  she,  somewhat  sharply,  "  Brin 
ton  Eliot  may  be  all  very  well,  but  his 
prospects  are  extremely  uncertain,  and  Mr. 
William  Eliot  —  " 

Miss  Allen  rose  at  once  and,  in  a  tone 
which  was  new  to  Mrs.  Keayne  Allen,  said 
quietly,  "  Mother,  if  you'll  excuse  me,  I'll  put 
on  my  Joseph  and  ride  Lady  Mary  into  town. 
Polly  and  I  are  going  out  to  Sally  Chew's." 


342 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

IN    WHICH    STONY    POINT    IS    STORMED 

BRINTON  ELIOT,  meanwhile,  had  been  fight 
ing  in  the  ravine  at  Monmouth  and  march 
ing  to  White  Plains.  There  Washington 
occupied  the  same  ground  on  which  he  had 
encamped  two  years  before,  and  Sir  Henry 
Clinton  took  refuge  in  New  York.  For 
some  months  both  armies  kept  one  another 
at  bay,  the  Americans  holding  West  Point, 
and  Clinton  refusing  to  be  drawn  into  the 
hilly  country ;  but  in  the  following  July  the 
immobility  was  broken  by  a  brilliant  move 
ment,  the  storming  of  Stony  Point  by  the 
American  Light  Infantry. 

There  was  commotion  in  Wayne's  camp 
on  the  west  bank  of  the  Hudson  on  the 
morning  of  the  I5th.  Pennsylvania  boys  in 
blue  coats  faced  with  red  were  filling  powder- 
horns,  Connecticut  yeomen  in  blue  and  white 
polishing  muskets,  New  York  lads  in  blue 
and  buff  buckling  gaiters,  Virginia  gentle 
men  putting  starch  on  their  hair,  Massa 
chusetts  men  packing  knapsacks,  —  thirteen 
hundred  and  fifty  of  them  in  all,  making 
343 


Brinton  Eliot 

ready  for  a  parade  at  which  they  had  been 
ordered  to  appear  "fresh  shaved  and  well 
powdered,  fully  equipped  and  rationed." 
Tiffin  of  the  Fourth  New  York,  in  his 
endeavor  to  take  down  his  horn,  upset  a 
dredging-box  and  covered  himself  with  starch. 
"  Ye  wuz  toF  t'  be  well  powthered,"  remarked 
Gorrigan.  "  Faith !  ye  hev  obeyed  orthers." 

On  the  parade-ground  Major  John  Stew 
ard  was  marshalling  four  Maryland  com 
panies,  while  North  Carolina  and  Virginia 
were  wheeling  into  line.  Febiger  was  talk 
ing  to  Fleury,  and  Brinton  Eliot  to  Major 
William  Hull,  Yale  '72,  who  now  commanded 
the  first  battalion  of  Massachusetts  Infantry. 

"  If  I'm  not  mistaken,"  said  Hull,  as  the 
Second  Connecticut  passed,  "  there's  Sainte- 
Lucie." 

It  was  indeed  the  French  nobleman  and 
sometime  dancing-master  of  New  Haven,  fine 
enough,  too,  in  the  blue  and  white  of  Con 
necticut.  The  former  courtier  of  Louis  XV 
had  come  by  strange  paths  to  his  present 
position. 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Brinton,  "that's  Sainte- 
Lucie  right  enough.  He  and  I  have  been 
together  in  France  and  at  Valley  Forge. 
He's  the  same  old  Sainte-Lucie." 

"  Ods  !  "  exclaimed  Hull.     "  To  think  the 
fellow  is  lined  up  in  the  ranks !     I  must  go 
and  shake  hands  with  him." 
344 


In  which   Stony  Point  is  Stormed 

The  chevalier  gave  them  both  a  cordial 
greeting  and  extended  to  them  both  his  gold- 
lined  snuff-box.  They  helped  themselves, 
and  he  took  a  pinch  himself  in  his  usual 
fashion. 

"  You're  as  wonderful  as  ever,"  remarked 
Hull.  "  Brinton,  you  and  I  couldn't  do  it  in 
that  way  if  we  worked  at  it  ten  years." 

"Gad!"  said  Brinton,  "I  should  think 
not." 

"  It  is  born,"  said  the  chevalier,  smiling. 
"  It  cannot  be  acquire'." 

But  there  was  little  opportunity  to  talk  to 
the  comte.  North  Carolina  and  Virginia 
had  wheeled  into  line,  and  it  was  time  for 
Massachusetts  and  New  York.  On  the  way 
to  his  regiment  Brinton  encountered  Edward 
Shippen.  The  descendant  of  the  great  first 
Edward  was  clad  in  the  blue  and  red  of 
Pennsylvania.  He  was  no  longer  a  father- 
ridden  son,  but  a  man,  standing  on  his  own 
legs. 

"  Edward,"  said  Brinton  in  some  surprise, 
"you  look  really  happy." 

"  I  begin  to  believe  I  am  happy,  Brinton. 
It's  a  great  thing  to  be  of  some  use  in  the 
world." 

The  parade  was  formed.  Then,  followed 
by  his  aides-de-camp,  Brigadier-General  An 
thony  Wayne  walked  down  the  line  and 
inspected  the  troops.  But  when  the  inspec- 
345 


Brinton  Eliot 

tion  was  over,  instead  of  being  sent  to  quar 
ters,  the  men  were  ordered  to  wheel  into  the 
road  and  march  south. 

After  passing  the  ruins  of  Fort  Montgom 
ery,  the  head  of  the  column  turned  to  the 
west  and  took  the  route  between  Torn  Moun 
tain  and  Bear  Mountain  to  the  base  of  De- 
gaffles  Rugh,  where  they  turned  south  again 
and  crossed  the  western  end  of  Donderberg. 
The  pathway  over  these  hills  was  rough  and 
steep,  and  the  men  marched  silently,  in  single 
file,  entirely  ignorant  of  their  destination, 
and  not  understanding  why  no  one  could 
quit  the  ranks  on  any  pretext  unless  in  the 
company  of  an  officer.  By  eight  in  the  even 
ing  they  had  traversed  thirteen  miles  and 
arrived  at  the  farm  of  David  Springsteel,  a 
mile  and  a  half  west  of  Stony  Point,  How 
ever,  no  one  but  the  brigadier-general  com 
manding  and  his  aides  knew  what  was  to  be 
done.  At  Springsteel's  they  found  Captain 
Heath,  who  had  been  on  sentry  duty  with 
a  small  detachment.  Heath  had  in  hand  the 
widow  Calhoun  and  the  widow  Rafferty, 
whom  he  had  found  carrying  chickens  and 
greens  to  the  British.  One  of  these  worthy 
women  was  imploring  the  divine  aid  of  St. 
Patrick  in  the  present  crisis,  while  the  other 
was  informing  Captain  Heath,  in  language 
more  pointed  than  polite,  that  he  was  "  nay- 
ther  sojer  ner  gintlemon,  but  a  dirty  robber," 
346 


In  which  Stony  Point  is  Stormed 

an  epigrammatic  analysis  of  his  character 
which  the  captain  received  with  unruffled 
urbanity* 

In  the  gathering  darkness  of  the  July 
night,  the  troops  were  drawn  up  in  two  col 
umns  behind  the  hill-— lines  of  dark  blue, 
whose  facings  of  buff,  white,  and  red  showed 
faintly,  —  and  for  the  first  time  they  learned 
the  work  cut  out  for  them.  By  the  light  of 
a  lantern  Major  McCormick  read  Wayne's 
order  of  battle*  Every  soldier  was  com 
manded  to  fix  a  piece  of  white  paper  in  his 
hat  as  a  sign  to  distinguish  friends  from 
foes.  They  were  to  march  with  guns  un 
loaded,  relying  entirely  upon  the  bayonet. 
Colonel  Fleury  with  a  small  detachment  was 
to  precede  the  columns  to  secure  sentries 
and  remove  the  abatis.  Major  Murfree 
with  two  companies  with  loaded  guns  was 
to  conduct  a  feint  in  the  centre.  The  column 
on  the  left  was  to  be  led  by  Colonel  Butler ; 
the  one  on  the  right,  by  the  brigadier-general 
commanding.  When  the  works  were  forced, 
but  not  before,  the  troops  were  to  shout  the 
watchword,  "  The  fort's  our  own !  "  If  any 
soldier  took  his  musket  from  his  shoulder 
and  attempted  to  fire  or  begin  the  battle  until 
ordered,  he  was  to  be  put  to  death  instantly 
by  the  officer  next  to  him.  Likewise,  if  any 
one  attempted  to  retreat  a  single  foot,  he  was 
to  be  put  to  death.  The  first  man  inside 
347 


Brinton  Eliot 

the  works  was  to  receive  $500  and  immedi 
ate  promotion;  the  second,  $400;  the  third, 
$300;  the  fourth,  $200;  the  fifth,  $100.  The 
brigadier-general  commanding,  sharing  the 
dangers  of  the  night,  desired  to  participate 
in  the  glory  of  the  day.  It  was  terse  and  to 
the  point,  and  it  meant  business. 

There  was  excitement,  enthusiasm,  and 
rapid  preparation,  but  everything  was  done 
very  quietly.  So  far  Washington's  plan  had 
been  carried  out  perfectly,  and  the  British 
had  not  the  least  suspicion  of  what  was  going 
on.  Eliot  walked  through  the  ranks  of  his 
company,  handing  to  each  man  a  piece  of 
white  paper.  Then  he  fastened  a  piece  over 
his  cockade.  The  Fourth  New  York  were 
in  Wayne's  column,  and  at  half-past  eleven, 
when  the  order  was  given  to  advance,  they 
moved  promptly  in  perfect  silence  toward  the 
marsh  at  the  base  of  the  Point.  To  their 
right  lay  the  broad  Hudson,  silent  in  the 
moonlight,  while  before  them  the  bold  prom 
ontory,  crowned  by  the  flag  of  England, 
stood  out,  black  and  formidable,  against  the 
starry  sky. 

At  midnight,  the  hour  set  by  Washington, 
they  reached  the  marsh ;  and  as  they  entered 
the  water,  the  enemy's  pickets  discovered 
them  and  opened  fire.  But  there  was  no 
response  from  the  column  which,  preserving 
its  formation,  advanced  through  the  water. 

348 


In  which  Stony  Point  is  Stormed 

Brinton,  wading,  waist  deep,  saw  the  black 
promontory  flash  with  fires  as  though  the 
underbrush  gleamed  with  hundreds  of  huge 
fire-flies,  and  heard  the  balls  splashing  about 
him.  Every  few  moments  there  was  a  groan 
as  a  man  went  under  the  water.  It  was  some 
two  hundred  yards  across  the  marsh,  and  in 
thirty  minutes  they  had  reached  the  beach 
and  were  close  to  the  first  abatis.  Then 
the  work  began  in  earnest,  in  the  face  of  a 
galling  musketry  and  artillery  fire. 

The  vanguard  were  tiaffcng  the  abatis 
with  their  axes ;  men  were  tearing  up  stakes 
with  their  hatwfc  and  clambering  over  logs ; 
Murfree's  companies  were  firing  in  the  centre ; 
the  cannon-balls  from  the  British  batteries 
were  crashing  through  the  brush;  boughs, 
torn  by  the  grape-shot,  were  cracking  and 
falling;  men,  ripped  by  the  musketry  fire, 
wexe  falling  likewise ;  and  the  thunder  of  the 
guns  of  His  Britannic  Majesty  shook  the 
highlands-  But  in  stern  silence,  with  fixed 
bayonets,  the  column  pressed  on  up  the  steep 
ascent,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  the  Connecti 
cut  farmer  and  the  Virginia  gentleman,  the 
college  graduate  and  the  rough  artisan,  men 
from  many  walks  of  life,  brothers  behind  the 
bayonet,  that,  by  God's  grace,  the  tyranny  of 
George  the  Third  should  end. 

Climbing  over  stones  and  through  bushes 
Brinton  saw  in  the  moonlight  the  rock  bas- 
349 


Brinton  Eliot 

tion,  the  sally  port,  and  the  scarlet  coats  of 
the  Seventeenth  Regulars.  "There  they 
are!"  he  shouted.  "Come!"  Melee  and 
great  confusion  followed.  Men  were  scaling 
the  parapet  and  rushing  through  the  sally 
port,  waves  of  blue  and  white  were  dashing 
against  waves  of  scarlet,  bayonets  gleamed 
with  a  cold  glitter  in  the  moonlight,  and 
swords  clashed  furiously  at  close  quarters; 
it  was  too  late  now  for  the  gun  thunder  of 
Britannic  Majesty. 

Fleury,  the  first  in,  was  tearing  down  the 
British  flag,  and  as  Brinton  ran  by  him  he 
encountered  a  man  without  a  coat,  who  had 
sprung  from  bed  and  into  boots  and  breeches 
to  face  his  fall,  bewildered.  Brinton  seized 
him  by  the  shirt  collar*  "  You  are  my  pris 
oner,  sir."  Colonel  Johnson  hardly  heard 
him.  "  Good  God  !  "  he  cried,  looking  about 
him  wildly.  "Good  God!"  "Lieutenant 
Eliot,*1  exclaimed  Febiger,  rushing  up,  "  that 
is  Johnson.  Let  us  take  him  to  General 
Wayne/'  And  take  him  they  did  to  "  Mad 
Anthony,"  the  brigadier-general  command 
ing,  who  had  been  wounded  in  the  head,  but 
supported  by  his  aides,  still  directed  with 
his  sword. 

Posey's  rrien  Were  spiking  canno^  while 
through  the  sally  ports  came  Butler's  bat 
talions  like  a  whirlwind.  There  in  the  thick 
of  it  was  Sainte-Ltlcie,  driving  his  bayonet 


In  which  Stony  Point  is  Stormed 

into  a  British  adjutant,  and  crying,  "  It  is 
for  Quebec !  "  On  that  wild  night  a  son  of 
France  struck  home  to  avenge  his  country 
for  the  blot  of  Pompadour,  There  too  was 
Gorrigan>  of  the  Fourth  New  York,  finishing 
a  redcoat  with  his  bayonet,  and  adding, 
"  Ye  won't  Surrinder?  Ye  kin  suit  yersilf !  " 
And  there  was  Shippen,  the  descendant  of 
the  great  first  Edward*  Battle  smoke  was 
in  his  nostrils,  and  the  light  of  battle  in  his 
eyes*  To  right  and  left  of  him  men  raged 
and  struggled,  and  out  of  a  surging  sea  of 
scarlet  there  sprang  toward  him  one  form 
and  one  face  —  the  Earl  of  Harborough. 
Each  knew  the  other,  and  blood  madness 
was  on  both.  "  Damn  you  !  "  cried  the  earl. 
And  they  fought  there,  oblivious  to  all  save 
fury.  Steward  and  the  Marylanders  had 
seized  the  military  stores,  and  the  guns  of 
the  Vulture  were  sounding  from  the  river, 
when  Brinton,  coming  back  from  General 
Wayne,  encountered  these  two  men.  He 
rushed  forward  to  help  Edward  Shippen. 
Indeed,  Edward,  who  was  bleeding  badly, 
had  great  need  of  it,  but  aid  came  too  late. 
Harborough's  sword  had  pierced  his  throat, 
and  Shippen  fell  in  the  hour  of  his  country's 
triumph.  By  the  best  that  was  in  him  he  had 
come  from  the  big  house  in  Philadelphia  to 
the  rock  bastion  at  Stony  Point.  Truly  the 
fourth  Edward  was  greater  than  the  first 
35* 


*  Brinton  Eliot 

Fortune,  for  the  second  time,  had  favored 
Harborough.  It  was  her  final  word.  Even 
at  that  moment  Brinton  Eliot's  hand  was  at 
his  throat,  and  where  his  sword  had  pierced 
Shippen  the  sword  of  Eliot  pierced  him. 
He  fell  on  his  back  across  the  legs  of  the 
dead  Edward,  and  he  was  the  last  Earl  of 
Harborough,  and  the  worst.  Brinton  saw 
in  him  only  Major  Bingham,  knowing  not 
what  lay  behind. 

The  guns  of  the  Vulture  were  sounding 
from  the  river.  It  was  one  o'clock.  Stony 
Point  was  taken,  and  across  the  Hudson 
swept  the  shout,  "  The  fort's  our  own  !  " 


352 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

IN     WHICH     MRS.     KEAYNE     ALLEN     CEASES 
TO    REGRET 

IN  due  time  the  star  of  Miss  Peggy  Shippen 
eclipsed  all  others.  Mrs.  Shippen  suggested 
alterations  at  Mt.  Pleasant,  and  there  were 
splendid  dinners  to  which  Mrs.  Allen  went 
regretfully.  However,  she  congratulated  Mrs. 
Shippen  with  apparent  warmth,  and  enter 
tained  General  Arnold  and  his  bride  at  West- 
wood,  but  she  was  not  sorry  when  they 
departed  in  the  following  summer,  with  a 
flourish  of  trumpets,  for  West  Point. 

Some  two  months  later  Mrs.  Allen's  chaise 
stood  before  the  door  of  Westwood.  It  was 
a  bright  October  morning,  and  the  silver- 
mounted  harness  of  the  bay  Brigadier  and 
the  varnish  of  the  chaise  sparkled  in  the  sun 
light.  Miss  Allen,  wearing  a  laced  Leghorn 
bonnet  with  scarlet  flowers,  and  a  long  cloth 
cardinal,  came  down  the  steps  and  entered 
the  chaise.  "  I'm  going  to  drive,  Shayler," 
she  said  to  the  groom,  who  was  at  the  horse's 
head.  "  You  may  go  to  the  stable."  Mrs. 
Keayne  Allen,  in  a  black  and  white  bonnet 
2A  353 


Brinton  Eliot 

and  brocaded  mantua,  came  almost  immedi 
ately,  and  in  a  moment  they  were  whirling 
down  the  drive. 

"  I  wish  to  go  to  Phineas  Grover's,"  said 
Mrs.  Allen.  u  I  want  to  order  some  brown 
ducape  and  a  Ranelagh  mob." 

"  Please  don't  get  one  of  those  puffy  caps," 
said  Betty.  "  I  think  they're  horrid.  Why 
don't  you  get  a  queen's  cap  ?  The  gauze  is 
much  richer  and  more  compact." 

"  Well,  I'll  look  at  them  both.  I  want  you 
to  see  some  brocade  that  Grover  has.  It's 
flowered  on  a  blue  ground.  I  think  it  would 
suit  you  amazingly  for  the  dinner  at  IVL  de 
la  Luzerne's." 

As  they  drove  down  Chestnut  Street  there 
were  signs  of  commotion  on  all  sides,  —  store 
keepers  were  closing  their  shops  and  barring 
their  shutters,  while  men  were  running  toward 
the  State  House.  "  I  can't  imagine  what  is 
the  matter,"  said  Betty*  "  Something  has 
happened."  "Betty,"  said  Mrs.  Allen,  "do 
be  careful.  You  came  frightfully  near  that 
wagon.  Perhaps  we  better  turn  back."  "  I'll 
be  careful,  dear.  The  Brigadier's  excited.  We 
mus'n't  turn  back.  Grover's  is  just  ahead." 
They  drove  on,  but  as  they  neared  Fourth 
Street  there  was  a  terrific  racket  of  fifes, 
drums,  horns,  and  hootings.  "  Betty !  "  cried 
Mrs.  Allen,  "  this  horse  will  run  away !  Look 
at  him !  "  "  No,  he  won't,  mother.  Sit  still !  " 
354 


Mrs.  Keayne  Allen  ceases  to  Regret 

At  that  moment  the  mob,  four  or  five  hun 
dred  strong,  swung  round  the  corner  into 
Chestnut  Street,  with  an  infernal  din  of  drums 
and  horns,  dragging  in  their  midst  a  cart  on 
which  was  enthroned  a  straw  figure  with  two 
faces,  formed  of  hideous  masks,  and  decked 
with  a  cocked  hat,  a  blue  coat,  and  a  large 
placard  on  which  was  written,  "  Benedict 
Arnold,  Traitor."  Behind  it,  another  scare 
crow,  painted  red  to  represent  the  devil,  held 
a  long  pitchfork.  The  mob  was  in  an  ugly 
mood,  and  matters  came  instantly  to  a  cli 
max,  for  two  men  seized  the  bridle  of  the 
Brigadier,  crying,  "  Tories  !  By  God  !  "  Mrs. 
Keayne  Allen  turned  as  white  as  the  plumes 
in  her  bonnet.  "  You're  monstrous  impolite," 
said  Betty,  wrathfully.  "  I'm  as  good  a  Whig 
as  any  of  you.  Let  go  of  my  horse  !  "  "  Don't 
lie  to  me ! "  cried  one.  "  Tories,  I  say ! 
Tories  !  "  "  Mother,  hold  tight !  "  said  Betty, 
and  with  that  she  gave  the  Brigadier  two  ter 
rific  cuts  with  the  whip.  The  big  bay  horse 
reared  so  furiously  that  both  men  lost  their 
hold,  and  the  chaise  dashed  forward  rapidly. 
It  was  a  wild  drive  to  Second  Street,  and  how 
she  turned  into  Second  without  colliding  or 
upsetting,  Betty  never  knew.  But  they  reached 
the  Winthrops'  at  last,  and  remained  there  for 
some  hours  until  Arnold's  effigy  had  been 
hung  and  burned  before  the  State  House, 
and  the  city  quieted  down.  There  was  no 

355 


Brinton  Eliot 

shopping  for  any  woman  in  Philadelphia  that 
day. 

At  the  Winthrops'  they  learned  all  that  was 
known  of  the  damnable  doings  at  West  Point. 

"  Lud  !  "  said  Mrs.  Winthrop,  "  'tis  my  be 
lief  the  fellow  was  no  Whig  a  year  ago.  He 
told  me  to  my  face  he  was  disgusted  with 
the  French  Alliance.  Fine  language  for  a 
Whig!" 

"Poor  Peggy!"  said  Betty,  sadly.  "It's 
terrible ! " 

Mrs.  Keayne  Allen  was  resting  upstairs, 
for  the  nervous  shock  of  the  affair  in  Chest 
nut  Street  had  been  too  much  for  her. 

"  What  can  Peggy  Arnold  do  now  ?  "  said 
Polly. 

"  Come  home !  "  replied  Mrs.  Winthrop,  em 
phatically. 

They  dined  at  the  Winthrops',  and  when 
they  drove  back  to  Westwood,  late  in  the 
afternoon,  Mrs.  Keayne  Allen  made  few  re 
marks,  and  those  on  indifferent  matters,  but 
she  did  a  good  deal  of  thinking.  Betty 
never  once  alluded  to  a  certain  morning  in 
the  music-room,  and  Mrs.  Allen  was  grateful 
to  her  for  it. 

There  was  a  very  sad  home-coming  in 
Judge  Shippen's  house  a  few  days  later,  and 
shortly  an  equally  sad  departure,  for  the 
Executive  Council  ordered  Mrs.  Benedict 
Arnold  to  leave  Pennsylvania  within  two 
356  " 


Mrs.   Keayne  Allen  ceases  to   Regret 

weeks.  There  were  also  alterations  at  Mt. 
Pleasant,  this  time  by  the  Executive  Council, 
who  confiscated  the  place  and  sold  everything. 
These  things  were  well  calculated  to  give 
Mrs.  Keayne  Allen  food  for  thought. 

On  the  day  that  Mrs.  Arnold  left  Phila 
delphia,  Betty  came  back  to  Westwood  with 
her  eyes  full  of  tears.  It  had  been  hard  to 
say  good-by  forever  to  Peggy,  who  had  been 
quite  innocent  of  wrong.  Mrs.  Allen  kissed 
her  daughter  affectionately. 

"  I'm  so  thankful  you're  back  from  town, 
Betty,"  said  she.  "  It  seemed  as  though  you 
would  never  come." 

"  Why,  mother !  I've  been  gone  only  two 
hours." 

"  I  know,  dear.  But  —  oh,  Betty,  let  us 
thank  God !  You  might  have  been  in 
Peggy  Arnold's  place  to-day.  No  credit  to 
me  that  you  are  not.  Let  us  thank  God 
that  you  have  been  saved  from  my  folly. 
As  for  that  earl  —  Betty  dear,  I  have  a  con 
fession  to  make  to  you.  I  have  begun  to 
view  life  differently,  and  I  hope  to  be  a 
better  woman.  I'm  a  Whig." 

"  Mother ! " 

She  clasped  her  mother  in  her  arms,  and 
they  were  once  more  as  they  had  been  in 
earlier  days. 


357 


PART    III.  —  YORKTOWN 


CHAPTER    I 

IN    WHICH    AN    ARMY    MARCHES    BY 

ON  a  September  morning  in  'Si  there  was 
a  joyful  company  at  Mrs.  Chauncey  Win- 
throp's,  in  Second  Street.  Mrs.  Winthrop's 
butler  stood  in  the  big  window  above  the 
white-columned  entrance-door,  fastening  a 
flag-pole  from  which  fluttered  the  Stars  and 
Stripes,  while  Mrs.  Winthrop,  in  her  bro 
caded  silk,  received  the  Aliens,  the  Chews, 
and  the  Pembertons  complacently.  It  was 
known  to  Congress  and  to  the  Philadelphia 
world  that  the  army  had  left  West  Point,  and 
would  pass  that  day  through  the  city  to 
"catch  Cornwallis  in  his  mouse-trap,"  and 
the  righteous  Whig  soul  of  Mrs.  Chauncey 
Winthrop  rejoiced  that  she  lived  on  the  line 
of  march.  People  who  dwelt  in  the  country 
were  driving  rapidly  into  town,  house  after 
house  was  hoisting  its  flag,  while  the  "  Bunch 
of  Grapes,"  the  London  Coffee  House,  the 
Pewter  Platter  Tavern,  and  Pegg  Mullen's 
"  Beefsteak  House "  were  filled  with  men, 
drinking  the  health  of  the  commander-in- 
chief. 

361 


Brinton  Eliot 

In  the  wide  hall,  where  the  portraits  of 
several  generations  of  Winthrops  and  Eliots 
looked  down  from  their  gilded  frames,  Mrs. 
Chauncey  Winthrop  received  her  guests. 
They  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Keayne  Allen, 
Miss  Betty  Allen,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Edward 
Pemberton,  Mrs.  Benjamin  Chew,  Miss  Sally 
Chew,  and  Miss  Peggy  Chew.  Miss  Polly 
Winthrop  was  also  present,  and  Mr.  Chaun 
cey  Winthrop  in  evidence.  Mr.  Winthrop 
had  cut  his  best  flowers,  no  small  sacrifice 
for  him,  and  these,  heaped  in  large  blue 
china  bowls,  and  filling  the  hall  with  fra 
grance,  were  ready  to  be  thrown  by  fair 
hands  to  the  country's  defenders.  As  soon 
as  the  butler  informed  Mrs.  Winthrop  that 
the  flag  was  up,  every  one  went  out  to  see 
the  effect,  and  thought  it  excellent.  Second 
Street  was  a  brave  sight,  for  by  this  time 
every  house  had  flung  a  banner  to  the 
breeze,  and  the  populace,  joyous  and  expect 
ant,  lined  it  from  end  to  end. 

"  Polly  Winthrop,"  said  Mrs.  Winthrop, 
impressively,  "  look  at  that  street !  It  beats 
the  Mischianza.  This  is  a  Whig  day,  eh, 
Mrs.  Pemberton  ? " 

"  It  is,  indeed,  Mrs.  Winthrop.  And  a  fine 
one  too." 

"  Your  nephew  is  in  the  army,  Mrs.  Win 
throp,  is  he  not  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Chew. 

"  My  nephew  is,"  replied  Mrs.  Winthrop, 
362 


In  which  an  Army  marches  By 

with  emphasis.  "  Ods  !  I'm  prouder  of  him 
than  ever  I  was  of  an  Eliot,  good  though  they 
be.  He's  a  captain  now,  and  has  done  amaz 
ing  well." 

"  I  hardly  ever  saw  such  a  crowd,"  said 
Sally  Chew.  "  We  had  a  dreadful  time  get 
ting  in  from  Germantown.  Didn't  you  have 
a  time  ? " 

"  I  should  think  we  did !  "  said  Betty. 
"  It's  splendid,  though,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Grand ! " 

"Betty,"  said  Peggy,  "how  do  you  get  your 
hoop  to  set  so  well  ?  I  wish  mine  would." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,  Peggy.  Did  Gamble 
make  yours  ?  " 

"  No.     Ashmead." 

"  Well,  go  to  Gamble.  He's  the  most  per 
fect  hoop-maker.  If  he  makes  'em,  they'll  be 
right." 

"  Betty,"  said  Sally  Chew,  "  have  you  met 
the  Marquis  de  Chastellux  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  met  him  last  month  at  the  ball 
M.  de  la  Luzerne  gave  on  the  French  King's 
birthday.  He  asked  me  for  a  minuet.  But 
it  was  too  warm  to  dance,  so  we  sat  in  the  gar 
den.  Isn't  it  a  pity  the  French  King's  birth 
day  comes  in  August  ?  That's  no  month  for 
a  ball." 

"  It's  the  most  provoking  thing !  " 

Then,  since  the  sun  was  warm  and  there 
were  no  signs  of  troops,  they  went  again  into 

363 


Brinton  Eliot 

Mrs.  Winthrop's  spacious  hall,  where  the 
butler,  in  his  murrey  and  blue  livery,  served 
lemon  punch,  and  every  one  chatted  for  a 
little  more  than  an  hour  and  a  half.  Sud 
denly  there  was  a  faint  sound  of  drums  and 
fifes.  Betty  sprang  up,  crying,  "  Girls,  they're 
coming  !  "  And  every  one  hurried  out. 

In  the  crowded  street,  men  craned  their 
necks  on  every  side.  No  soldiers  were  to  be 
seen,  but  the  drums  sounded  louder  and 
louder.  "  Lud  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Winthrop, 
"  we've  forgotten  the  flowers."  She  went 
into  the  house  again,  and  the  girls  ran  after 
her.  When  they  reappeared  with  their  arms 
full  of  flowers,  the  crowd  was  shouting,  the 
drums  rolling,  the  shrill  fifes  sounding,  and 
in  their  well-worn  blue  coats  faced  with  red, 
their  buckskin  breeches,  and  black  leggings, 
the  Pennsylvania  Volunteer  Battalion  Rifle 
men,  Major  William  Parr  commanding,  were 
in  sight.  They  passed  amid  loud  cheering, 
and  were  followed  by  the  Fourth  Continental 
Light  Dragoons,  Colonel  Stephen  Moylan 
commanding ;  in  this  troop  rode  Major  Ben 
jamin  Tallmadge,  whom  the  girls  cheered, 
and  who  responded  in  gallant  fashion. 

"  Doesn't  Ben  Tallmadge  ride  splendidly  ?  " 
remarked  Polly. 

"  Amazing  well,"  said  Sally  Chew. 

There  was  a  break,  for  the  army,  marching 
in  loose  order,  was  strung  out  more  than  two 
364 


In  which  an  Army  marches  By 

miles  in  length,  and  Betty,  who  was  looking 
for  the  New  York  Infantry,  grew  impatient. 
Suddenly,  in  gray  coats  faced  with  green, 
gray  waistcoats  and  gray  breeches,  came  the 
Maryland  Continental  Infantry,  Brigadier- 
General  Mordecai  Gist  commanding;  they 
were  closely  followed  by  the  Baltimore 
Light  Dragoons,  Colonel  Nicholas  Moore 
commanding.  Drums,  fifes,  and  hearty 
cheers  announced  the  Pennsylvania  Conti 
nentals,  and  the  hero  of  Stony  Point,  Brig 
adier-General  Anthony  Wayne.  Some  com 
panies  had  the  regulation  blue  coats  with 
red  facings,  others  had  brown  coats  faced 
with  buff,  and  again  others,  blue  coats  faced 
with  white,  and  there  were  hats  with  black 
bindings,  and  hats  bound  with  white  tape. 
They  marched  —  shabby,  war-worn,  glorious 
—  and  the  handsome  "  Mad  Anthony,"  in  his 
blue  and  buff,  with  the  pink  ribbon  of  his 
rank  across  his  breast,  handled  his  prancing 
black  steed  in  the  best  fashion,  doffing  his 
cocked  hat  continually  in  response  to  the 
ovation  he  received.  The  Canadian  Conti 
nental  Infantry,  in  brown  coats  faced  with 
red,  followed,  Colonel  Moses  Hazen  com 
manding,  and  after  an  interval  of  three  or 
four  minutes,  the  New  Hampshire  and  New 
Jersey  Continentals  in  blue  and  white  and 
blue  and  buff.  Every  one  cheered  them,  and 
then  the  company  at  Mrs.  Chauncey  Win- 
365 


Brinton  Eliot 

throp's   heard   shouts,  —  "Hurrah    for    New 
York ! " 

"  Polly,"  said  Betty,  in  some  excitement, 
"  New  York's  coming !  " 

"Goodness!"  said  Polly,  "I've  thrown  all 
my  flowers.  I've  not  a  single  one." 

Miss  Allen,  who  had  thrown  none  as  yet, 
said  sweetly,  "  Polly,  ask  Peggy  Chew  to 
give  you  some  of  hers." 

With  their  drums,  their  flags,  and  their 
bright  bayonets  the  New  York  Continentals 
in  blue  and  buff,  Colonel  Cornelius  Van  Dyck 
commanding,  marched  down  Second  Street. 
"There's  Brinton!"  cried  Polly.  "There's 
Brinton ! "  Mrs.  Chauncey  Winthrop  was 
waving  her  lace  handkerchief.  Miss  Allen, 
to  the  surprise  of  her  mother,  went  down  the 
steps,  and  at  sight  of  her,  Captain  Eliot 
halted  his  company.  Whatever  was  coming 
behind  would  have  to  halt  too.  The  cap 
tain's  blue  and  buff  was  dusty,  and  his  black 
leggings  mud-stained. 

"  Brinton  !  "  exclaimed  Betty,  giving  him 
her  hand.  "  I'm  amazing  glad  to  see  you." 

"  I'm  ever  so  glad  to  see  you,  Betty.  Don't 
they  look  well  ?  " 

"  Splendidly !  I  want  them  to  have  these 
flowers.  I  suppose  it's  terrible  to  stop  the 
procession." 

"  They  shall  have  the  flowers.  Sergeant 
Gorrigan ! " 

366 


In  which  an  Army  marches  By 

"  Here,  sor !  " 

"  Betty,  this  is  Sergeant  Gorrigan.  He 
risked  his  life  to  pull  me  out  of  a  hole  at 
Monmouth." 

"  Sure,  ma'am,  'twas  nuthin'  at  all.  Th' 
Cap  giv'  me  th'  breeches  I  hev  on  me." 

"You're  monstrous  brave,  I'm  sure,"  said 
Betty.  "  Please  give  them  these  as  far  as 
they'll  go.  That  one's  for  you,  Brinton.  I 
suppose  we  have  to  say  good-by." 

"I  suppose  so.  There's  Massachusetts! 
Good-by,  Betty." 

"  Good-by,  Brinton." 

There  were  two  short  words  of  command, 
and  the  New  York  company  was  off,  mak 
ing  way  for  the  Massachusetts  Continentals 
in  their  blue  and  white,  Colonel  Joseph 
Vose  commanding.  A  Rhode  Island  regi 
ment  followed,  Lieutenant-Colonel  Jeremiah 
Olney  commanding;  but  there  were  no 
Virginia  troops,  for  they  were  with  M.  le 
Marquis  de  Lafayette,  who  was  holding  Corn- 
wallis.  During  the  space  of  four  or  five  min 
utes  there  was  another  break.  Then  the 
martial  music  of  a  brass  band  sounded,  a 
white  flag,  dotted  with  gold  fleurs-de-lis,  ap 
peared,  and  resplendent  in  white  broadcloth 
faced  with  orange,  white  leggings,  white  cross- 
belts,  and  silver-laced  hats  with  white  and 
orange  plumes,  came  the  Royal  Regiment 
Bourbonnais,  the  Marquis  de  Laval-Mont- 
367 


Brinton  Eliot 

morenci  commanding.  They  were  followed 
almost  immediately  by  the  Regiment  Sois- 
sonnais,  in  white  broadcloth  with  rose-colored 
facings,  the  Comte  de  Saint  Maime  com 
manding,  forerunning  in  turn  the  Regiment 
Royal  Deux-Ponts,  in  blue  coats  faced  with 
gold,  white  belts,  and  leggings,  the  Marquis 
Christian  des  Deux-Ponts  commanding. 
Loud  cheering  greeted  the  appearance  of  the 
French  allies.  The  Regiment  Saintonge,  in 
blue  coats  faced  with  silver,  followed,  the 
Comte  de  Custine  commanding,  and  then 
came  Lauzun's  Legion,  the  Regiment  Dillon, 
the  Regiment  Touraine,  the  Vicomte  de  Pon- 
deux  commanding,  the  Regiment  Agenois, 
the  Regiment  Gatinois,  and  the  Royal  Engi 
neers.  Lieutenant-General  the  Comte  de 
Rochambeau,  riding  a  handsome  brown  mare, 
and  followed  by  his  Marechaux-de-Camp,  the 
Baron  de  Viomenil,  the  Chevalier  de  Chastel- 
lux,  and  the  Marquis  de  Saint-Simon,  was 
given  a  warm  welcome ;  but  the  next  moment 
the  cheering  became  tremendous,  for  every 
man  was  shouting  himself  hoarse.  There 
was  the  big  bay  thoroughbred,  and  in  the 
saddle,  in  the  well-known  blue  and  buff, 
cocked  hat,  and  black  boots,  the  strong, 
stately  figure  of  him  who  from  the  beginning 
had  borne  the  Revolution  on  his  shoulders, 
and  was,  of  all  who  had  marched  by,  the  one 
great  man,  his  Excellency,  General  George 
368 


In  which  an  Army  marches  By 

Washington,  Commander-in-Chief  of  the 
Armies  Allied  of  America  and  France.  He 
raised  his  cocked  hat  with  great  dignity  in 
response  to  the  acclamations  which  swept 
about  him,  and  his  horsemanship  was  more 
perfect  than  that  of  any  man  who  rode 
through  Philadelphia  that  day.  Major-Gen- 
eral  Benjamin  Lincoln  and  the  staff  followed. 
Then  came  Washington's  Guard,  in  blue 
coats  faced  with  buff,  red  waistcoats,  buck 
skin  breeches,  black  hats  bound  with  white 
tape,  white  bayonet  and  body  belts.  The 
Continental  Artillery,  in  blue  coats  faced 
with  scarlet,  yellow  buttons,  and  hats  bound 
with  yellow,  closed  the  line,  Brigadier-Gen 
eral  Henry  Knox  commanding.  And  thus 
with  fife  and  drum  they  marched  to  York- 
town. 


369 


CHAPTER    II 

A    VOICE    IN    THE    NIGHT 

IN  the  fourth  week  of  the  following  Octo 
ber,  Mrs.  Chauncey  Winthrop  brought  to  a 
triumphant  conclusion  a  matter  which  she 
had  long  had  at  heart,  and  announced  the 
engagement  of  her  daughter,  Miss  Margaret 
Winthrop,  to  Mr.  John  Cadwalader,  Jr.  Mr. 
Cadwalader  came  of  an  excellent  family,  and 
was  an  estimable  young  man.  It  was  not 
likely  that  he  would  ever  do  anything  rep 
rehensible  ;  it  was  equally  unlikely  that  he 
would  ever  do  anything  of  moment.  How 
ever,  he  suited  Mrs.  Chauncey  Winthrop,  for 
reasons  best  known  to  herself,  and  upon  the 
occasion  in  question  she  gave  a  supper.  There 
were  present  Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  Cadwalader, 
Mr.  John  Cadwalader,  Jr.,  Miss  Betty  Allen, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Edward  Pemberton,  and  the 
Chevalier  de  Lameth  of  the  French  Embassy. 

Mrs.  Winthrop's  dining  room  was  wain- 
scotted  in  red  cedar,  and  had  in  the  four  cor 
ners  beautiful  china  closets  of  the  same  wood, 
with  tops  carved  like  shells,  in  which  were 
displayed,  behind  nettings  of  fine  brass,  ad- 
370 


A  Voice  in  the  Night 

mirable  collections  of  tableware.  In  the  soft 
light  of  the  silver  candlesticks  the  rich  bro 
cades  and  powdered  heads  of  the  women  and 
the  lace  ruffles  and  brilliant  coats  of  the  men 
appeared  to  advantage.  At  the  round  table 
Mrs.  Winthrop  had  Mr.  John  Cadwalader  at 
her  right  and  the  Chevalier  de  Lameth  at  her 
left.  Next  to  the  chevalier  sat  Miss  Betty 
Allen,  and  then  came  Mr.  Edward  Pember- 
ton,  Mrs.  John  Cadwalader,  Mr.  Chauncey 
Winthrop,  Mrs.  Edward  Pemberton,  Mr.  John 
Cadwalader,  Jr.,  and  Miss  Polly  Winthrop,  on 
the  right  of  Mr.  John  Cadwalader. 

"  Ods  !  chevalier,"  said  Mrs.  Winthrop,  "  if 
the  Queen  of  France  can  act  and  wishes  to 
have  private  performances,  I  don't  see  why 
there  should  be  a  fuss." 

"  Ah !  madame,  it  is  because  the  Queen  of 
France  desire'  to  sing.  If  she  could  sing,  it 
would  be  diff  rant." 

"Mrs.  Winthrop,"  said  Betty,  "did  you 
know  that  Brinton  met  the  King  of  France  ? 
He  wrote  me  about  it.  He  had  the  funniest 
time ! " 

The  chevalier,  not  knowing  who  "  Brin 
ton  "  was,  and  not  fully  understanding  the 
word,  "funniest,"  bowed  politely,  remarking, 
"  Ah  !  is  it  so  ?  " 

"  Lud  !  "  said  Mrs.  Winthrop.  "  With  the 
King  of  France  ?  " 

Betty  was  not  quite  sure  how  the  chevalier 
371 


Brinton  Eliot 

would  take  Brinton's  experience,  so  she  said 
simply:  "Til  tell  you  about  it  some  time. 
Chevalier,  I  don't  think  I've  seen  you  since 
the  fete  du  Dauphin.  It  was  perfectly 
lovely." 

"  It  was  a  pleasant  fete." 

"  Most  monstrous  pleasant,"  said  Mrs.  Win- 
throp;  "and  M.  de  la  Luzerne  certainly 
achieved  wonders  with  the  Carpenter  House." 

"  Ah!  It  is  the  habit  of  M.  de  la  Luzerne 
to  achieve  wondairs." 

"  Mr.  Winthrop,"  said  Mrs.  Cadwalader, 
"  your  dahlias  are  the  most  beautiful  I  have 


ever  seen." 


"  They  ought  to  be,"  said  Mr.  Winthrop, 
laughing.  "  I've  spent  enough  time  and 
money  on  them.  Bartram  hasn't  any  as 
good." 

"  Polly,"  said  John  Cadwalader,  Jr.,  "  don't 
you  like  asparagus  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  care  much  for  it,  John." 
"  This  we  have  to-night  is  very  good." 
"  John,  you  always  talk  at  table  about  the 
things  you're  eating.     Now  when  you're  mar 
ried  to  me,  dear,  I  must  teach  you  to  converse 
about  lots  of  things.     Mother  taught  father." 
"  All  right,  Polly.     I'll  be  glad  to  learn." 
"  Pemberton,"  said  Mr.  John  Cadwalader, 
"  I  hear  Gryce  has  his  barber-shop  papered 
with  continentals." 

Thus  with  one  thing  and  another  the  sup- 
372 


A  Voice  in   the  Night 

per  passed.  Afterward  there  was  music  in 
the  drawing-room.  Miss  Winthrop  played  the 
harpsichord.  The  Chevalier  de  Lameth,  who 
had  an  excellent  voice,  sang  several  French 
songs.  Then  card  tables  were  brought  in, 
and  they  played  ombre.  At  eleven  the  guests 
departed.  Miss  Allen,  however,  was  to  re 
main  until  the  following  morning,  since  it 
was  quite  out  of  the  question  for  her  to  be 
driven  alone  to  West  wood  at  that  hour.  Mrs. 
Winthrop  had  been  in  the  best  of  spirits 
throughout  the  evening. 

"  Well,  Betty,"  said  she,  "  Polly  is  fixed  at 
last" 

"  I'm  so  glad  for  her  and  for  you,  Mrs. 
Winthrop.  I'm  sure  she'll  be  happy." 

"  Past  question.  Betty,  if  you  and  Brin- 
ton  —  " 

Miss  Allen  flushed  and  said,  laughing, 
"Ods!  Mrs.  Winthrop.  Don't  you  think 
the  chevalier  sung  delightfully?" 

"  Betty  Allen !  that's  always  the  way  you 
do." 

Then  Polly  came  in,  and  then  Mr.  Win 
throp,  and  in  the  course  of  half  an  hour  Mrs. 
Winthrop  remarked  that  she  thought  it  was 
time  to  retire.  The  girls  went  upstairs,  but 
Polly  wanted  to  show  Betty  a  new  gown  of 
corded  armozine.  She  had  also  some  white 
egrets,  which  she  was  anxious  that  Betty 
should  try  on  her  head ;  and  she  desired  to 

373 


Brinton  Eliot 

have  Betty  look  at  a  black  velvet  riding-mask 
and  at  a  green  silk  one,  and  tell  her  which 
was  the  more  becoming ;  and  she  had  a  bruns- 
wick,  which  had  just  been  sent  home,  the  la 
pels  and  collar  of  which  she  thought  were  too 
small,  and  she  wanted  Betty's  opinion  about 
that;  and  there  were  other  things.  Polly's 
room  faced  Second  Street,  through  which,  in 
course  of  time,  tramped  the  stout  watch,  Hans 
Schampf,  with  cocked  hat  and  lantern,  call 
ing  the  hour,  "  Basht  vun  o'glock  !  "  "  Good 
ness  !  "  said  Polly.  "  We  certainly  must  go 
to  bed.  I  had  no  idea  it  was  so  late."  How 
ever,  they  did  not  for  another  half-hour. 

"  Betty,"  said  Polly,  "  I  think  I'll  be  really 
happy.  John  is  not  brilliant,  but  he's  amaz 
ing  nice,  and  he  wants  to  do  whatever  I 
want." 

"  Yes,  dear.     I'm  sure  you'll  be  happy." 
"  And   I   shall   try   to  make  John  happy, 
Betty." 

"  I  know  you  will,  dear." 
"  As  happy  —  as  I  can." 
"  Why,  Polly  dear,  you're  crying !  " 
"  I  know,  Betty.     I  didn't  mean  to.     I  was 
thinking  of  —  of  Ranelagh  Garden,  Betty." 

Betty  put  her  arm  about  her,  and  they 
both  cried. 

"  You  see,"  said  Polly,  sobbing,  "  there  was 
only  one  Nathan  Hale,  and  no  one  can  ever 
be  quite  —  quite  like  him,  can  they  ?  " 
374 


A  Voice  in  the  Night 

"  No,  dear." 

"  You  know  how  you'd  feel  if  anything 
should  happen  to  —  " 

"  Polly,"  said  Betty,  "  you  must  stop  cry 
ing,  dear,  and  go  to  bed.  In  a  minute  I 
shall  be  so  nervous  that  —  " 

"  There,  Betty ;  it's  over  now.  I  really 
couldn't  help  it.  John  and  I  will  be  happy." 

Through  Second  Street  tramped  the  stout 
watch,  Hans  Schampf,  with  cocked  hat  and 
lantern,  calling  the  hour,  "  Basht  dwo 
o'glock ! " 

A  few  moments  later  the  candles  in  Miss 
Winthrop's  room  were  extinguished,  and  in 
time  Miss  Winthrop  was  sleeping  calmly, 
but  Miss  Allen  was  not.  A  big  bronze  clock 
ticked  steadily  in  the  darkness,  and  there 
were  faint  sounds  of  sobbing.  "  It's  always 
meeting  and  parting,"  murmured  Betty, 
"  meeting  and  parting.  Will  it  never  end  ?  " 

Through  Second  Street  tramped  the  stout 
watch,  Hans  Schampf,  with  cocked  hat  and 
lantern,  calling  the  hour,  "  Basht  dree  o'glock, 
und  Gornvallis  ish  daken ! "  And  in  the 
dark  mansion  of  Mrs.  Chauncey  Winthrop  a 
single  voice  answered,  "  Thank  God  !  " 

In  such  fashion  the  news,  the  most  glori 
ous,  came  to  Philadelphia  in  the  silent  hours ; 
and  what  an  awakening  was  that  upon  the 
morrow,  when  men  looked  their  fellows  in 
the  face  and  knew  the  Cause  was  won ! 
375 


CHAPTER   III 

A    SOLDIER    COMES    AT    CHRISTMAS-TIME 

IN  the  fourth  week  of  December,  when  a 
light  wind  whirled  the  falling  flakes  about 
a  snow-clad  city,  the  house  in  Second  Street 
was  gay  with  greens  and  holly,  and  the  big 
logs  burned  brightly  on  the  brass  fire-dogs, 
for  the  righteous  Whig  soul  of  Mrs.  Chaun- 
cey  Winthrop  rejoiced,  and  she  planned  to 
keep  her  Christmas  merrily. 

In  the  drawing-room  the  butler,  under 
Mrs.  Winthrop's  direction,  was  decking  the 
lustre  with  mistletoe.  "  That  looks  very  well, 
Peter,"  said  Mrs.  Winthrop.  "It  sutney 
do,  ma'am."  Then  sleigh-bells  sounded,  and 
a  moment  after  Miss  Polly  Winthrop  in  her 
hood  and  scarlet  fur-lined  cardinal  came  in. 

"  Lud  !  "  said  Mrs.  Winthrop,  laughing, 
"  what  a  lot  of  bundles !  You  look  like  a 
vrouw,  come  market-day." 

"  I  thought  we'd  never  get  through  shop 
ping,"  said  Polly,  laughing.  "  Betty  couldn't 
stop.  She's  gone  on  to  Westwood.  Mrs. 
Allen  gives  a  dance  to-night,  you  know.  I'm 
nearly  frozen.  It's  awfully  cold." 
376 


A  Soldier  comes  at   Christmas-time 

"  Yes.  Let  Peter  take  those  things  up 
stairs,  and  you  go  in  by  the  library  fire." 

"  Yes.  Peter,  you  may  take  these  up. 
Mother,  isn't  it  fine  that  Brinton's  coming  for 
Christmas  ?  " 

"  It  is,  indeed.  He  hasn't  spent  a  Christ 
mas  with  us  since  —  lud  !  I  can  hardly  recall. 
He  was  a  Freshman  at  Yale,  I  think." 

"  Mother,  the  minute  he  comes  Betty  wants 
me  to  find  out  what  he  wishes  for  Christmas 
and  let  her  know.  Betty  didn't  know  just 
what  to  get.  It's  so  hard  to  buy  things  for 
men.  They  say  everything  you  give  'em's 
lovely.  But  then  they  don't  think  so.  Betty 
wants  to  know  what  he  really  wants." 

"  Well,  I  call  that  very  sensible.  I  hope 
you've  found  out  what  John  wants." 

"  Oh  !  I  have." 

"  Brinton  I  suppose  will  come  in  the 
morning." 

"  It's  a  shame  he  can't  be  here  for  Mrs. 
Allen's  dance.  Nobody  knew  he  was  com 
ing  till  yesterday.  And  Mrs.  Allen  can't 
put  off  the  dance  now.  And  Betty  is  so 
disappointed.  And  everything's  all  twisted 
up." 

However,  everything  was  not  "  all  twisted 
up,"  for  Brinton  came  late  that  afternoon, 
some  hours  earlier  than  he  was  expected. 
In  his  cocked  hat  with  its  black  and  white 
cockade,  his  black  boots,  and  his  blue  cloak 
377 


Brinton  Eliot 

which  concealed  his  uniform,  he  ran  up  the 
snowy  steps  and  rattled  the  bright  knocker. 
When  Mrs.  Winthrop  and  Polly  came  down, 
he  was  in  the  library  in  his  blue  and  buff, 
standing  before  the  fire,  and  looking  as 
cheerful  as  possible. 

"  Brinton  Eliot !  "  cried  Polly,  embracing 
him.  "  I  was  never  more  glad  !  " 

"  Brinton,"  said  Mrs.  Winthrop,  kissing 
him,  "  we're  amazing  glad  to  see  you." 

"  I  know  that,  Aunt  Elizabeth,  and  I'm 
amazing  glad  to  see  you  and  Polly.  I  didn't 
think  I'd  be  here  so  soon,  but  I  got  a  fast 
coach.  You've  heard  from  father,  haven't 
you  ? " 

"  No.     Not  for  two  months." 

"  Well,  I  fancy  you  will  to-morrow,  then. 
He's  coming  for  Christmas." 

"  Lud  !  "  said  Mrs.  Winthrop,  "  'tis  magnifi 
cent  ! " 

"  I  thought  you'd  be  pleased.  Just  think  of 
it !  I  haven't  seen  father  since  '75.  He's  all 
right,  though,  and  his  affairs  are  all  right  too." 

"  What  has  he  done,  Brinton  ?  " 

"  Well,  there  wasn't  very  much  that  he 
could  do.  He's  kept  his  health." 

"  But  I  don't  understand." 

"  They  didn't  get  the  Flamand,  you  know, 
and  I  sold  a  cargo  in  France  to  fair  advan 
tage,  and  on  the  way  over  we  took  the  Duck- 
ess  of  Cumberland.  She  and  her  cargo 
378 


A  Soldier  comes  at   Christmas-time 

brought  a  good  round  sum.  It  would  have 
been  enough  to  have  put  things  right." 

"  Why  wasn't  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  was.  But  since  then  lots  of  things 
have  happened.  You  see  the  captain  of  the 
Flamand  has  been  with  father  for  years  and 
years,  and  is  devoted  to  him.  His  name  is 
Elderkin.  He's  a  good  all  round  fellow7. 
When  I  left  the  ship,  he  took  her  and  went 
privateering.  I'd  be  afraid  to  say  how  many 
prizes  that  fellow  has  scooped  in,  in  the  last 
three  years,  and  how  many  thousands  of  dol 
lars  he  has  sold  them  for.  There's  plenty  of 
money  in  Boston  and  other  places  in  New 
England  for  father,  as  soon  as  he  wants  it. 
Elderkin  swears  that  father's  got  to  have  it 
all.  Father  won't  do  that,  though." 

"  Does  Brother  William  know  about  all 
this  ?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Winthrop. 

"  He  knows  about  the  cargo  I  sold  in 
France,  and  the  prize  we  took  on  the  way 
over.  The  rest  is  a  surprise  for  Christmas." 

"  Goodness  !  "  said  Polly.  "  I  wish  I  could 
see  Elderkin." 

"Oh!  you'll  see  him  all  right,"  said  Brin- 
ton.  "  He's  coming  for  Christmas." 

"  Brinton  Eliot !  " 

"  Yes.  I  wrote  and  asked  him.  I  didn't 
think  Aunt  Elizabeth  would  mind,  under  the 
circumstances.  He  eats  with  his  knife,  but 
you'll  like  him  all  the  same." 

379 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  Lud !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Winthrop,  in  sur 
prise.  "  However,  Brinton,  you've  done  per 
fectly  right.  Mr.  Elderpin  shall  have  a  warm 
welcome." 

"  It's  Elderkin,  Aunt  Elizabeth.  I'm  sure 
you'll'  like  him.  He's  a  grand  Whig." 

"  Brinton,"  said  Polly,  "  Betty  wants  to 
know  what  you  wish  for  Christmas." 

"  Does  she  ?  " 

"  Yes.  We've  been  shopping  all  morning. 
She  wished  to  get  you  just  what  you  wanted, 
but  she  didn't  know  what." 

"  Oh ! " 

"  What  do  you  want,  Brinton  ?  " 

"Well,  I  can't  tell  right  off-hand.  I'll  have 
to  think." 

"  You  must  hurry  and  think." 

"  Is  it  so  pressing  ?  " 

"  Yes.  It's  very  pressing.  Oh !  I  forgot 
—  Mrs.  Allen  gives  a  dance  to-night,  and 
you're  going  with  us." 

"Oh!  Well,  I  can  tell  Betty  to-night. 
She  can  get  it  to-morrow.  Christmas  is  not 
till  day  after.  There's  another  thing  I'm 
glad  about.  You  know  the  Comte  de 
Sainte-Lucie  —  " 

"  The  dancing-master  ?  " 

"  Yes.     He  was  for  a  while.     He  had  to 

do  something.     He  comes  from  a  fine  family. 

I  know  you  thought  he  was  a  coward  because 

he  ran  away  from  Madame  de  Pompadour, 

380 


A  Soldier  comes  at   Christmas-time 

but  you  don't  quite  understand.  They  have 
bastilles  in  France,  and  lettres  de  cachet,  and 
all  sorts  of  things.  He  wouldn't  knuckle  to 
Madame  de  Pompadour,  for  he  said  she 
ruined  the  country  and  lost  them  Canada 
and  India,  and  I  fancy  she  was  a  pretty  cheap 
sort  of  person  to  bow  down  to  anyhow.  She 
detested  Sainte-Lucie,  and  she  threw  him  out 
of  his  court  job  and  got  out  a  lettre  de  cachet 
for  him,  and  he  had  to  get  into  a  wine  cask 
and  out  of  the  country.  If  you  had  seen 
Sainte-Lucie  at  Stony  Point,  I  think  you'd 
change  your  mind  about  his  being  a  coward. 
So  many  Frenchmen  have  helped  us  that  I 
thought  I  ought  to  try  to  help  one  of  them. 
I  wrote  to  Beaumarchais  all  about  Sainte- 
Lucie,  and  he  went  to  see  King  Louis 
XVI,  and  showed  him  my  letter  and  got 
everything  fixed  up.  The  Comte  de  Ver- 
gennes  wrote  Sainte-Lucie  in  the  king's 
name,  telling  him  he  was  not  banished  any 
more,  and  inviting  him  to  come  back,  and 
offering  him  a  fine  court  job,  ecuyer  du  roi, 
or  something  of  that  sort.  He's  a  great 
noble  again,  and  can  go  back  whenever  he 
likes,  and  be  well  received  over  there.  Ver- 
gennes  gave  the  letter  to  Beaumarchais,  and 
Beaumarchais  sent  it  to  me,  and  I've  got  it 
in  my  pocket." 

"  Goodness !  "    exclaimed  Polly,  "  I  should 
like  to  see  Sainte-Lucie." 
381 


Brinton  Eliot 

"Oh!  You'll  see  him  all  right.  He's 
coming  for  Christmas." 

"  Brinton  Eliot !  " 

"  Yes.  I  wrote  him.  He's  been  stationed 
at  West  Point.  He  doesn't  eat  with  his 
knife.  You  never  saw  such  finished  manners. 
When  you  see  him  make  the  grand  bow  a 
La  Louis  Quatorze  —  well,  you'll  see  some 
thing,  that's  all." 

"  Lud  !  "  said  Mrs.  Winthrop.  "  We  will 
have  a  Christmas." 

"  I  hope  so." 

"  Now,"  she  continued,  "  we  must  all  dress 
for  supper,  and  at  supper  you  must  tell  us 
everything  about  Yorktown." 

"  I  will.  It  was  the  finest  thing  that  ever 
happened.  They  were  a  glum-looking  lot 
when  they  marched  out,  and  their  band  played 
'  The  World  turned  Upside  Down.' " 


382 


CHAPTER   IV 

IN    WHICH    CERTAIN     PERSONS     DECIDE    A    CER 
TAIN    MATTER 

WESTWOOD  was  brightly  lighted  that  even 
ing,  and  in  the  ball-room  gilt  mirrors  decked 
with  greens  and  holly  reflected  lofty  head 
dresses  which  the  French  Queen  had  made 
the  fashion,  and  yards  of  hoops,  puffed  and 
festooned.  They  were  dancing  "  Leather  the 
Strap,"  a  new  contra-dance,  then  very  popular, 
and  more  attractive  than  its  name.  Owing 
to  the  distance  she  had  had  to  drive,  Mrs. 
Chauncey  Winthrop,  resplendent  in  rose- 
colored  brocade,  sailed  in  somewhat  late,  fol 
lowed  by  Polly  in  a  purple  gown  and  Brinton 
in  uniform. 

"  I'm  delighted  to  see  you,  Mrs.  Winthrop," 
said  Mrs.  Allen.  "  Good  evening,  Polly.  Why, 
Brinton  Eliot !  This  is  a  surprise." 

"  I  trust  not  altogether  disagreeable." 

"  Why,  Brinton  !  Most  delightful !  "  said 
Mrs.  Allen,  cordially. 

"  Thank  you,"  replied  Brinton,  somewhat 
coolly. 

He  turned  then  to  speak  to  Mr.  Allen,  but 
383 


Brinton  Eliot 

in  a  moment  a  voice  that  he  had  been  long 
ing  to  hear  pronounced  his  name. 

"  You  didn't  look  for  me  so  soon,  did  you  ?  " 
said  he,  turning  round. 

"  Brinton !  I'm  so  glad  you  came  in  time 
for  the  dance.  Polly  said  you  were  coming 
to-morrow." 

"  Polly  is  not  infallible,"  said  Brinton,  laugh 
ing.  "  May  I  have  the  next  dance  ?  " 

"  It's  the  most  provoking  thing !  I've 
promised  it  to  M.  de  Lameth.  What  had  I 
better  do  ? " 

"  Dance  with  him,  of  course.  I'll  take  the 
next  one." 

"  Very  well,  if  you  say  so.     Good-by." 

In  her  white  velvet  pannier  flowered  in  blue 
and  gold,  she  walked  toward  M.  de  Lameth, 
and  it  was  a  fine  thing  to  see  her  walk  be 
cause  she  walked  so  well.  Brinton  would 
have  preferred  to  watch  Betty  dance,  but 
Becky  Bond  came  up  with  the  Comte  de 
Plessis-Mauduit,  he  saw  Sally  Chew  with  the 
Marquis  de  Laval-Montmorenci,  and  he  felt 
that  he  must  stir  about.  Miss  Franks  was 
there,  Miss  Auchmuty,  Miss  Vining,  Miss 
Carrington,  Miss  Bingham,  Miss  Van  Cort- 
landt  of  Albany,  Miss  Wetherill  of  Virginia, 
M.dela  Luzerne,the  French  Minister,  the  Due 
de  Lauzun,  the  Marquis  de  Chastellux,  the 
Chevalier  de  Mirabeau,and  many  other  people. 

When  the  contra-dance  was  over,  Brinton 
384 


Certain  Persons  decide  a  Certain  Matter 

went  up  to  Betty  and  was  presented  to  M.  de 
Lameth.  Then  Betty  promptly  gave  the 
chevalier  his  conge,  but  in  such  a  charming 
fashion  that  he  could  not  take  offence. 

"  There  !  "  said  she.     "  Now  he's  gone." 

"  I  don't  think  I  care  to  dance,"  said  Brin- 
ton.  "  I  want  to  tell  you  about  Yorktown 
and  —  lots  of  things." 

"  I  want  to  hear  all  about  everything,"  said 
Betty.  "  Suppose  we  walk  in  the  hall." 

Leaving  the  ball-room  as  the  music  sounded 
for  a  minuet,  they  walked  slowly  down  the 
hall,  passing  the  tall  mahogany  clock  which 
in  that  house  had  marked  with  never-failing 
care  the  hours  of  Betty's  life  from  babyhood. 
How  sternly  it  had  once  struck  six,  the  hour 
at  which  it  had  been  necessary  to  take  one's 
doll,  kiss  father,  and  go  regretfully  to  bed. 
However,  that  is  past  history.  The  clock 
was  a  friend,  but  Betty  was  not  thinking  of 
the  clock. 

"  Brinton,"  said  she,  "  what  do  you  want  for 
Christmas?" 

"  I  want  you,  Betty.  For  this  Christmas 
and  every  Christmas." 

She  flushed,  looked  down,  and  said  slowly, 
"For  every  Christmas,  Brinton?  Every 
Christmas  is  a  long  time." 

"  Yes,  Betty,  for  every  Christmas.  Since 
I  was  a  little  fellow  on  my  first  visit  to  Aunt 
Elizabeth,  and  saw  you  when  you  came  to 
2c  385 


Brinton  Eliot 

play  with  Polly,  and  hid  your  doll,  and  you 
slapped  me,  and  we  made  it  up,  and  I  kissed 
you  when  I  said  good-by,  I  have  thought  of 
you  and  loved  you  always.  I  have  never 
thought  of  any  other  girl.  At  sunset  on  the 
Atlantic  the  waves  murmured  your  name. 
I  saw  you  in  the  white  mosque  in  India.  I 
saw  you  in  the  fields  of  France.  I  saw  you 
on  the  terrace  at  Passy  when  the  sun  sank 
behind  the  hills  of  Meudon.  I  saw  you  in 
the  cold  white  camp  at  Valley  Forge.  And 
in  the  moonlight  on  the  Hudson  I  saw  you 
the  night  we  climbed  the  hill  at  Stony  Point. 
I've  tried  hard  to  be  worthy  of  you.  I  know 
I'm  not  worthy,  but  then  —  " 

"  Brinton,  don't  say  that,  dear,  because  — 
because  I've  loved  you  —  always." 

She  looked  up  into  his  eyes,  and  he 
clasped  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her. 
Yorktown  might  go  its  way,  Yorktown  and 
its  glory;  they  would  hear  none  of  it  that 
night. 

After  a  time,  as  they  came  toward  the  ball 
room  again,  Brinton  said,  "  Betty,  I  kissed 
you  when  we  were  children.  Then  when 
we  grew  up  I  couldn't,  and  now  we're  chil 
dren  once  more." 

"  Yes,  dear." 

"  Betty,  if  you'll  ask  your  mother  to  come 
out  here,  I'll  talk  to  her  while  you  go  and 
dance." 

386 


Certain  Persons  decide  a  Certain  Matter 

"  Brinton,  can't  I  come  too  ?  " 

"  I  think,  dear,  it  might  be  better  if  you 
did  not." 

In  a  few  moments  Mrs.  Allen  appeared, 
with  her  plumes  and  flowered  petticoat. 

"  Betty  said  you  wished  to  see  me, 
Brinton." 

If  Mrs.  Allen  was  bracing  herself  for  the 
expected  and  unwelcome,  she  succeeded  very 
well. 

"  Yes,"  said  Brinton.  "  You  know  I  told 
you  once,  before  I  went  to  India,  that  I 
wanted  to  marry  Betty.  You  were  rather 
severe,  and  —  " 

"  Brinton,  I  have  suffered  as  often  as  I 
have  thought  of  that  day.  I  was  terrible, 
and  —  " 

"  I  didn't  say  you  were  terrible.  I  said 
you  were  rather  severe  with  me.  I  was  in 
hard  luck  then." 

"  Betty  would  have  married  you  anyway." 

"  Since  you  felt  as  you  did,  I  didn't  think 
I  ought  to  ask  her  then  until  I  got  things 
fixed.  I  never  told  Betty  about  that  con 
versation.  I  think  it  would  distress  her 
very  much.  The  whole  thing  has  been  hard 
for  both  of  us.  Of  course,  I'm  not  a  general 
or  a  prominent  man.  I've  done  what  I  could 
for  my  father,  and  I've  done  what  I  could 
for  my  country.  That's  about  the  size  of  it. 
No  doubt  you  think  Betty  ought  to  fly  much 
387  ' 


Brinton  Eliot 

higher.  However,  she  seems  to  be  perfectly 
satisfied,  and  this  time  I've  asked  her.  We're 
going  to  be  married,  and  that's  all  there  is  to 
that." 

The  tears  had  been  gathering  fast  in  Mrs. 
Allen's  eyes,  and  sinking  down  in  a  tapes 
tried  chair,  she  cried  heartily. 

"  I  thought  you'd  be  cut  up,"  continued 
Brinton,  u  but  if  you  don't  wish  to  give  Betty 
a  wedding,  why,  that's  all  right.  We'll  be 
married  at  Aunt  Elizabeth  Winthrop's." 

"  Brinton,"  said  Mrs.  Allen,  sobbing,  "  don't 
punish  me  any  more,  dear." 

"Why,  Mrs.  Allen!  Do  you  really  want 
me  ? " 

"  Yes,  Brinton,  I  do  !  " 

She  held  out  her  arms  to  him,  saying,  with 
a  tearful  smile,  "  I  haven't  any  son,  Brinton." 

Brinton  kissed  her,  and  said  softly,  "  I 
haven't  any  mother." 


388 


CHAPTER   V 

IN    WHICH    TOASTS    ARE    DRUNK 

MRS.  KEAYNE  ALLEN  meant  what  she 
said  on  the  evening  of  the  23d  of  December, 
whatever  ideas  she  may  have  had  previously, 
and  in  the  following  June  she  made  amends 
by  giving  them  as  fine  a  wedding  as  Phila 
delphia  had  ever  seen. 

Christ  Church,  on  that  June  day,  was  a 
fair  sight,  and  could  hardly  contain  the  crowd. 
The  Josselyns  came  from  Providence,  the 
Vinings  from  Wilmington,  the  Wetherills 
from  Virginia,  the  Oswalds  from  New  York, 
while  the  serried  ranks  of  the  Philadelphia 
contingent  packed  the  pews  on  every  side, 
beginning  the  alphabet  with  the  Auchmutys 
and  running  through  to  the  Willings.  There 
was  a  glittering  array  of  uniforms  :  Major  Ben 
jamin  Tallmadge  of  the  Continental  Light 
Dragoons,  Major-General  Baron  Steuben,  In 
spector  General  U.S.A.,  Colonel  Cornelius 
Van  Dyck  of  the  New  York  Continentals, 
Colonel  Philip  Van  Cortlandt  of  New  York, 
Brigadier-General  Robert  Lawson  of  Vir 
ginia,  Lieutenant  the  Comte  de  Sainte-Lucie 
389 


Brinton  Eliot 

of  the  Connecticut  Continentals,  Major  Will 
iam  Hull  of  the  Massachusetts  Continentals, 
Major-General  the  Marquis  de  Lafayette, 
the  Chevalier  de  Chastellux,  the  Due  de 
Lauzun,  the  Comte  de  Chabannes,  the  Mar 
quis  de  Laval-Montmorenci,  and  others  who, 
for  obvious  reasons,  must  pass  without  men 
tion.  His  Excellency,  the  Commander-in- 
Chief,  honored  the  ceremony  at  Christ  Church 
by  his  presence,  but,  through  press  of  affairs, 
was  unable  to  go  afterward  to  Westwood. 
Mrs.  Chauncey  Winthrop,  who  sat  between 
Mrs.  Keayne  Allen  and  Mr.  William  Eliot, 
was  radiant,  and  Mrs.  Allen  looked  very 
happy  likewise.  There  was  present  also 
Captain  Ichabod  Elderkin,  who  had  his  hair 
powdered  and  wore  a  fine  coat  with  lace 
ruffles.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Duche  performed  the 
ceremony,  and  when  they  came  together 
down  the  aisle  —  Betty  in  her  flowered  white 
satin  and  Brinton  in  his  uniform  of  blue  and 
buff  —  they  looked  so  happy  and  so  hand 
some  that  it  was  not  surprising  people  craned 
necks  over  one  another's  shoulders. 

The  big  green  coach  with  its  huge  springs, 
fine  bay  horses,  and  powdered  coachman, 
was  in  waiting.  One  entered  it  by  a  kind 
of  folding  ladder  of  three  steps,  covered  with 
red  velvet,  and  when  the  bride  had  mounted 
the  steps,  Brinton  waited  a  moment  at  the 
coach  door,  for  they  both  wished  to  say 
39° 


In  which  Toasts  are  Drunk 

good-by  to  General  Washington.  "  Mrs. 
Eliot,"  said  he,  smiling,  "  you've  joined  the 
army." — "  I  enlisted  in  '76,  your  Excellency," 
said  Betty,  merrily.  When  the  coach  started, 
Brinton  said,  "  Betty,  General  Washington 
was  the  first  person  to  call  you  Mrs.  Eliot. 
That's  good  luck." 

The  drive  from  Christ  Church  to  West- 
wood  was  a  very  happy  one,  but  it  must  be 
passed  over,  for  it  belongs  only  to  Captain 
and  Mrs.  Eliot,  and  no  one  else  has  a  right 
to  it.  The  crowd  in  coaches,  chaises,  gigs, 
and  on  horseback,  followed  the  bride  and 
bridegroom.  At  Westwood  that  afternoon 
the  noble  brick  manor-house,  with  its  six 
lofty  white  columns,  rising  above  the  second 
story  to  support  the  roof,  was  filled  with  a 
brilliant  throng,  and  many  persons  walked 
also  in  the  garden  which  stretched  to  the 
Schuylkill.  In  the  blue  drawing-room  the 
bride  and  bridegroom  received  congratula 
tions,  and,  following  the  fashion  of  the  time, 
dozens  of  people  kissed  the  bride. 

"  Betty,"  said  Sally  Chew,  "  it's  monstrous 
fine  that  you  and  Brinton  are  married.  I'll 
never  forget  the  day  he  rode  with  me  when 
the  Marquis  ran  away.  He  looked  at  you 
the  whole  time,  and  I  don't  think  he  said 
two  wrords  to  me." 

"  Not  even  two,  Sally?  "said  Brinton.  "Was 
it  as  bad  as  that  ?  " 

391 


Brinton  Eliot 

"  Brinton,  you  know  it  was.  However, 
you're  forgiven  long  ago.  I  don't  wonder 
you  wanted  to  look  at  Betty." 

"  Sally,"  said  Betty,  "  that  silver  porringer 
you  sent  us  is  beautiful.  Isn't  it,  Brin 
ton  ? " 

"  Yes,  Sally,  it  is  amazing  fine,  and  we 
are  ever  so  much  obliged." 

"  Here's  Aunt  Elizabeth ! "  exclaimed 
Betty,  joyfully.  "  Aunt  Elizabeth,  those  gold 
candlesticks  are  the  finest  things  I  ever  saw. 
They're  much  too  grand  for  us." 

"  They're  not  too  grand !  "  said  Mrs.  Win- 
throp.  "  I'm  coming  to  Bowling  Green  in 
October  and  see  'em  lit." 

"  Well,  I  rather  think  you  are  coming  to 
Bowling  Green,"  said  Brinton,  "  and  you  and 
Polly  must  stay  until  Christmas,  unless 
Polly's  married  before  then." 

"Madame  Eliot,"  said  the  Chevalier  de 
Chastellux,  "  permit  that  I  offer  my  felicita 
tion'  —  I  have  hear'  so  much  to  the  honnair 
of  your  husban'  in  the  armee." 

"  Thank  you,  chevalier.  You're  very 
good." 

"  Madame  Eliot,"  exclaimed  the  Baron 
Steuben,  "  I  am  zo  glat  apout  dis  dat  I  dink 
I  could  zing  zomzing.  I  am  jarmt !  " 

"  Baron,"  said  Brinton,  "  remember  you're 
to  breakfast  at  our  table." 

"Betty,"  said  Miss  Auchmuty,  "I  don't 
392 


In  which  Toasts  are  Drunk 

know  how  we  can  ever  let  you  go  to  New 
York.  Philadelphia  won't  be  the  same 
place." 

"Oh!  yes,  it  will,"  said  Betty,  laughing, 
"and,  besides,  I'm  coming  to  see  you  all  in 
the  winter,  and  Brinton's  coming  too." 

"  Cap'n  El'ot,"  said  Captain  Elderkin,  "  th' 
hull  thing  is  gret !  I  ain't  hed  sich  a  gran' 
day  sence  I  wuz  a  boy." 

"  I'm  glad  of  it,  Cap,"  said  Brinton.  "  Re 
member  that  you  breakfast  with  us." 

"  Betty,"  said  Polly,  "  I  was  never  more 
glad  about  anything  in  my  life." 

"  I  know  that,  dear,  and  you  don't  know 
how  happy  Brinton  and  I'll  be  to  come  here 
when  you  marry  John." 

"Brinton,"  said  Major  Hull,  "you're  a 
lucky  dog,  and  I  certainly  do  congratulate 
you." 

"  Madame  Eliot,"  said  the  Due  de  Lauzun, 
"  it  is  the  priv'lege  for  me  to  offer  the  good 
wishes.  In  France  the  yo'ng  women  are 
beautiful.  But  in  America — parbleu  !  the 
women  are  all  yo'ng  an'  beautiful." 

Thus  it  continued  for  two  hours.  Then 
they  went  to  the  wedding  breakfast,  for  which 
tables  were  set  in  the  spacious  dining  room 
and  in  the  music-room  across  the  hall.  There 
were  many  tables,  but  one  only  is  to  the 
present  purpose.  The  bride  had  the  bride 
groom  at  her  right  and  Major-General  Baron 

393 


Brinton  Eliot 

Steuben  at  her  left.  Beside  the  thick-set 
baron  sat  the  raw-boned  Captain  Ichabod 
Elderkin  of  the  Flamand,  and  next  to  him 
Lieutenant  the  Comte  de  Sainte-Lucie  of 
the  Connecticut  Continentals.  Then  came 
Major  Benjamin  Tallmadge  of  the  Light 
Dragoons,  and  then  a  vacant  chair.  It  was 
a  gilt  chair,  draped  with  the  Stars  and 
Stripes,  and  across  it  a  broad  band  of  white 
silk,  embroidered  in  gold  —  the  work  of  Miss 
Polly  Winthrop  —  bore  the  words,  "  Nathan 
Hale,  Yale  1773."  Brinton  Eliot  was  on  one 
side  of  it,  and  Ben  Tallmadge  on  the  other, 
and  thus  it  stood,  voiceless  yet  eloquent,  in 
memory  of  him  who,  having  but  one  life  to 
lose  for  his  country,  gave  it  gladly,  regretting 
that  he  had  but  one. 

"  I'm  so  glad  to  have  you  at  this  table," 
said  Betty,  smiling,  "  because  you've  all  been 
good  friends  of  Brinton,  and  Brinton's 
friends  are  mine." 

"  I  have  the  hope  that  I  be  a  good  frien' 
to  Captain  Eliot,"  said  the  Comte  de  Sainte- 
Lucie,  "for  withou'  the  doubt  he  has  been 
the  ver'  good  frien'  to  me." 

"  You  must  not  forget  us  when  you're  in 
France,  Sainte-Lucie,"  said  Brinton.  "  Per 
haps  some  day  we'll  pay  you  a  visit  at  Ver 
sailles." 

"  What  pleasure  for  me  the  visit  in  the 
whatever  place !  But  it  will  not  be  at 
394 


In  which  Toasts  are  Drunk 

Versailles,  my  frien'.  No.  The  king  has 
permit'  that  I  return.  An'  Monsieur  de  Ver- 
gennes  has  wrote  me  the  lettair  that  he  is 
glad  I  have  won  honnair.  He  say  I  am 
again  nobleman  of  France.  So  good.  For 
it  I  thank  you,  my  frien',  ver'  much.  But  I 
have  sent  me  a  lettair  to  Monsieur  de  Ver- 
gennes,  an'  I  say :  '  Monsieur,  America  is  a 
Ian'  of  liberty.  An'  when  I  was  a  wan'erer  it 
took  me  in.  'Tis  now  my  home.  I  will  not 
leave  it.  My  compliments  to  the  king.' " 

"  Ganz giit!  "  exclaimed  the  Baron  Steuben. 

"  Sainte-Lucie,"  said  Brinton,  "  that's  fine  !  " 

"  Und  now,"  continued  the  baron,  "  I  bro- 
bose  ze  healt'  ov  ze  pride,  Madame  Eliot !  " 
They  raised  their  glasses  and  drank  it  joy 
fully. 

"  The  bridegroom  comes  next,"  said  Ben, 
smiling. 

"  I  don't  want  to  drink  to  myself,  Ben," 
said  Brinton,  and  rising,  he  lifted  his  wine 
glass.  "  Let's  drink  to  the  one  for  whom  we 
have  all  tried  to  do  our  best,  the  one  for 
whom  we'll  keep  on  trying  as  long  as  we're 
above  ground.  I  give  you  —  The  United 
States ! " 

They  rose  in  response.  Perhaps  from  the 
vacant  chair  an  unseen  form  rose  with  them. 
Who  knows  ? 


395 


Dorothy  Vernon  of  Haddon  Hall 

By  CHARLES  MAJOR 

Author  of  "  When  Knighthood  was  in  Flower,"  etc.,  with  eight 
full-page  illustrations  by  HOWARD  CHANDLER  CHRISTY 

Cloth  i2mo  $1.50 


The  plot  is  centered  round  Haddon  Hall,  famous  in  history 
as  one  of  the  places  which  sheltered  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  dur 
ing  her  captivity.  The  story  itself  is  of  the  romantic  attach 
ment  and  elopement  of  Dorothy  Vernon  and  young  John 
Manners,  in  spite  of  the  opposition  of  parents  and  guardians. 
The  time  is  around  1560.  The  story  of  the  hero  and  heroine 
has  long  filled  a  romantic  place  in  the  more  personal  annals  of 
Elizabethan  history.  Both  Elizabeth  and  Mary  Stuart  come 
into  the  story,  which  is  set  in  perhaps  the  most  beautiful  of 
English  scenery  —  the  hill  country  of  Derbyshire,  in  the  neigh 
borhood  of  Chatsworth,  beautiful  hills  through  which  flow  the 
Wye  and  the  Derwent.  This  neighborhood  is  one  of  the  most 
interesting  in  England.  Not  far  from  it  is  Chatsworth,  where 
Walter  Scott  was  often  seen,  and  where  Byron  met  fair  Mary 
Chaworth,  the  heiress  of  Annesley.  Not  far  to  the  south  of  it 
is  Leehurst,  where  Florence  Nightingale  used  to  live,  while  to 
the  north  of  it  is  the  grave  of  Little  John,  famous  in  the  Robin 
Hood  legend.  Some  of  the  rooms  in  Haddon  Hall  stand 
exactly  as  Dorothy  herself  saw  them  three  hundred  years  ago. 
In  the  state  chamber  still  stands  the  canopied  bed  of  green 
velvet  and  white  satin,  in  which  tradition  says  Queen  Elizabeth 
slept  when  she  visited  Haddon  to  open  the  first  ball  in  the 
new  ball-room  of  that  day. 


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THE  CONQUEROR 

Being  the  true  and  romantic  story  of  Alexander  Hamilton 

By  GERTRUDE  ATHERTON 

Author  of  "Senator  North,"  "The  Californians,"  etc.,  etc. 
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"  '  The  Conqueror '  is  well  worth  reading.  In  fact,  if  once 
it  is  started,  it  will  not  be  put  down  until  we  have  rioted  with 
the  author  to  the  last  page.  It  is  a  book  that  is  certain  to 
create  and  hold  interest  and  to  stir  up  much  comment.  It  is 
at  once  daring  and  unconventional,  and  it  flings  tradition  to 
the  winds."  —  Denver  Republican. 

"Realizing  that  Mrs.  Atherton  has  sown  political  dragon's 
teeth,  certain  to  bring  forth  clashing  opinions,  we  can  only 
appreciate  the  fascination  and  vigor  of  her  work.  Upon  the 
whole,  it  is  incomparably  more  illuminating  than  any  mass 
of  non-vitalized  facts  collected  by  the  plodding  historian."  — 
New  York  Times'*  Saturday  Review. 

"  Among  the  notable  productions  of  the  year  must  be  reck 
oned  Mrs.  Gertrude  Atherton's  brilliant  character  novel.  In 
intellectual  grasp,  virility,  and  compelling  interest  this  fearless 
author  takes  front  rank."  —  Providence  Telegram. 

"Till  now  there  has  arisen  neither  man  nor  woman  to  do 
what  has  been  done  in  this  exciting  narrative  of  an  exciting 
life  .  .  .  permeated  with  the  passionate  brain  vitality  of  a 
woman  who  can  write  as  well  as  think."  —  Standard  Union, 
Brooklyn. 

"  It  may  start  a  revolution  in  the  methods  of  our  historical 
novelists.  It  is  a  composite  yet  a  splendid  picture."  —  New 
York  Herald.  

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